D bought me a china doll on a recent trip to Denmark. I had related to him a story about how when I was 7 years old I had received a china doll from my eldest sister. I loved that doll. I carried her around with me everywhere, carefully, aware of how fragile she was. One day when I returned from school I couldn't find her in my room. I searched around the house and by nightfall was in tears. My mother asked all my sisters whether they had seen the doll, but they all had shook their heads. Sister nr 4 had denied emphatically how she had not taken the doll. It was several months later when I finally found the doll, hidden well beneath R's bed. The head was cracked right through the middle and the leg smashed.
At 7, it felt sore.
When D brought the doll to me I cried and cried.
25 years later and i've healed the loss .
Stupid really.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Not stupid at all aminah.
If it takes a whole lifetime to overcome the depths of sorrow or pain one has suffered as a children, it's worth it. Beautiful blogsite.

11:32 am  

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