Hello and welcome to a first-Saturday-after-school-started Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is September 10th.
Because my last writing practice of the shoes poem was well received, I thought I'd share another one that is from the viewpoint of someone living in a dollhouse. Enjoy!
Jane lay on her wooden bed built with staves and stared at the white cardboard ceiling. Arms and legs stiff, she longed to roll to her side and curl into a ball of warmth. A blanket that covered her from neck to toe, as opposed to breast to knee, would have been nice. But no, such was her lot – a doll borne to a dull life in a house governed by a seven-year-old child.
Jane shivered in her shoebox bedroom. At least, she reminded herself, she had a home. When the seven-year-old had received Jane - a garage sale find from her mother - the girl had set to work creating a home for her first, not-a-hand-me-down-from-her-older-sister doll.With popsicle sticks, shoeboxes and whatever leftovers she could scavenge from her mother’s sewing room and her father’s workbench in the garage, the seven-year-old had built Jane a modest home. Four rooms, one shoebox each, that made her a bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bathroom.The walls were thin, but the girl had taken great care to color wallpaper designs with the Crayola markers she’d gotten brand-new as part of her school supplies for second grade. With her new scissors, the girl had poked, stabbed, and cut windows large enough for Jane to peer through and stapled small swatches of purple fleece around the windows for curtains. The girl's mom had oohed and aahed and hugged her daughter, then knelt down on all fours to hot glue tiny patches of Velcro to the cardboard walls then pressed the fabric against them.
Jane had long legs like the older sister's Barbie, the same slim torso, the same delicate hands, and yet, she was not Barbie. Jane was second-class Barbie - the Afterthought Barbie. And she knew it, despite her beautiful short blond hair (instead of long like Barbie’s).
Barbie had a plastic castle and bendable knees and elbows. Barbie could at least get a little comfortable in her plastic pink queen-size bed with room for Ken. Jane hadn’t seen any Ken yet, but Barbie's twelve-year-old owner had a birthday coming and was hinting loudly and often to her parents that since Barbie had a home and a car, and a suitcase the size of her castle filled with clothes and accessories, it was time her Barbie got a Ken so she could get married and have babies.
Jane hadn't come with an accessory line like Barbie did. Jane hadn't come with anything other than the powder blue croptop and green tennis shorts. Not even shoes, let alone a puppy pet or a handbag. But the seven-year-old loved her and she supposed she should be grateful for that.
From her corner of the living room (Barbie residence was in the older sister's bedroom), Jane watched the little girl and her family together at a table, piercing green leaves and brown cubes and placing them in their mouths. The little girl sipped from a plastic blue cup. "My teacup is adorable, but it would be so much better if I could drink from it," Jane thought. Jane's kitchen was the next shoebox over. The girl usually propped Jane against the kitchen wall before dinner so Jane could eat with the family. But today, it seemed she'd forgotten. Jane didn't mind. The predictable steak on a plate with the plastic BB peas and small couch of “mashed” potatoes paired with the delicious smells of the family's meal made Jane's belly rumble with jealousy. "Oh, how I long to live in a real house with real food."
On This Day
Historic Highlights (credits)
Happy Birthday to You!🎶
Remembering You
Kim
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