Katie had kept a few special dolls from her childhood, and recently she decided it was time to give them to some little girls who would play with them again.
She said the dolls were looking at her accusingly, as though they didn't want to just sit around anymore.
So last night we took them over to Mike and Ellen, parents of girls ages 3 and 4 and a boy age 2.
Molly is an American Girl doll. I read Katie the books about Molly growing up. They were actually good little books. In hour house, she didn't get around as much as the other two, Amy and Holly. When we went on vacation, Katie strapped them into the back seat. True confessions: I liked having them around, with their lifelike eyes and Amy's long shiny brown hair. (Holly is a baby, so she is bald.)
Yesterday I had them wave goodbye to Joe, who was not touched.
"Would you two get in the car?" he asked.
I put the dolls in the back seat. Katie said, "That's unsafe!" and then buckled them in like she used to do.
The kids really liked the dolls and carried them around all night. We had brought a wicker chair for Molly. Four-year-old Maeve took the doll and the chair upstairs and then sat her in the chair and found her a footstool. Three-year-old Mairead took Holly to bed.
Katie was happy that she had done the right thing for the dolls and that they were starting a new adventure.
I looked down at Molly with her new children and said to Katie, "She seems to be smiling more now."
The scary thing it that I meant it.
"You know," I said, "Dolls really bring out the child in the mother."
She replied, "And they bring out the mother in the child."
This blog is about falling down and getting up, coping and coming back after four bone marrow transplants for Acute Myeloid Leukemia, or AML, starting in 2003 when I was diagnosed after feeling winded while running a 10-K road race. I have three children, Ben, Joe and Katie, and one Labrador retriever, Maddie, short for Madison, as in Madison (Ave.), in honor of my hometown, New York, New York.