The other day, in an E-Mail, Lyra asked me if I had ever written here about Sarah's new dress. She thought I had, and so did I, but I can't find it. So, here is the story of Sarah's New Dress.
In the dark ages, I made and repaired dolls. When I was learning this craft, an old friend of my mother's gave me a composition doll to practice on. This doll, sweet-faced and slender like a young girl, with ratty hair, had an arm missing. I was so busy making rag dolls that I put this one away to work on "someday".
Almost 20 years later, Lyra and Lydia, who was three, were visiting me in my sewing room. As her mom and I gabbed, Lydia poked around in the treasure boxes and bags that seem to follow me wherever I go, and in a shoe box, tucked into a dark corner, was this naked old doll, still missing the arm, and still with ratty hair. She picked it up and brought it to me. "Sarah needs a new dress, " she announced in emphatic tones. Privately, I thought "sarah" needed much more than a new dress, but I just agreed with Lydia, and the doll was put back in the shoe box.
The more I thought about it, the more amazing I began to think it was that Lydia had just automatically named this doll. You don't name dolls or bears unless you have some kind of visceral response to them. So I decided that "Sarah" should be under Lydia's Christmas tree that year.
I found a suitable wig, and restrung her arm. I took a good look at this doll and realized that it probably was an antique and maybe valuable, but what value can be placed on a doll in a box? Much better that she had a home with someone who obviously would love her. But I did take a lot of care cleaning her up, making her dainty underclothes and a beautiful red dress. I bought socks and red patent leather shoes, and put a red ribbon in her hair. She really was quite lovely. As I returned her to her box, now with fresh tissue paper in it, I noticed something else; she is a walking doll. What fun!
Christmas came, and we went down to bring the presents to Lyra's family. Lydia opened the box, and with all the aplomb of a three-year old, looked in and then shut the box. Lyra was horrified. "Do you know who that is?" she asked Lydia. "Yup, Sarah," says Lydia, going off to play with other toys. I knew, however, that for Lydia, everyday was full of miracles, so what was one more?
Once all the presents were opened, and Lyra and I were in the kitchen with the other women getting the dinner on, Lydia came out to see what was going on. Under her arm was Sarah, and Sarah stayed under her arm the rest of the day, whatever Lydia was doing. I had my thanks.
Several years later, the following E-Mail arrived on our computer from Lydia, who was now in fifth grade:
"Once there was a little girl who was visiting her grandmother's house when she came upon a little box. When she looked in the box, she saw doll with neither leg attached, an arm missing, and most of her hair missing.
The little girl's grandmother looked inside the box and thought "Oh, know![sic] What will my granddaughter say about this atrocious doll?" But the little girl pulled the doll up by the few strands of hair that it had and announced with an authoritative voice, "Sarah needs some clothes."
No, the little girl did not say this ugly doll needs some legs, or it needs hair, or the doll needs an arm; she said, "Sarah needs some clothes."
Well, the little girl went home and never forgot about the doll, and neither did her grandmother. Every time she went past the box with the discarded doll, she thought how much the doll needed to be loved and cared for. And so, that year for Christmas, the little girl opened her grandmother's Christmas present and when she looked inside she saw Sarah. But the doll was no longer atrocious for it had both legs, both arms, a new wig and a brand new red dress!
The little girl is now in fifth grade, is ten years old, and is reading this story to her Language Arts class."
I love you, Lydia. Grandmother
5:31 PM
Relaxing after an all-day training for the agency. We ended with my most hated thing to do: a competitive game of trivia. I'm terrible at games, and even more terrible at competition. Most of the questions seem to center around either totally off the wall questions, or 60's music and TV shows. Now, I was the wrong age in the 60's to know those songs, and we didn't have TV. So I spent most of the time trying to hide so I wouldn't get called on. I got caught, however, by the Boss, so I had to stand up in front of nearly 500 people and tremble with fright. The question I got had to be about the only song from that era I knew anything about: "Leaving on a Jet Plane." So I got the answer and was a hero. Go figure!
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