As a very young child, I had something called a Super Pickle. He went through a lot, and “died” several times, but my father always bought me a new one he’d find from somewhere, even scrounging for them in second hand shops when they went off the market. When I told my husband about it, he went out and bought me a new one. He’s sitting safely on a shelf with all my other stuffed animals.
At some point, I had one of those Mattel “My Child” Dolls that I took with me everywhere. My mother found me one with long, red hair, she said to look like me, but the doll had brown eyes (and mine are blue). But Mom thought they were so cute with their button noses, so she got me one so I could have a “baby” of my own. She was the only doll I ever truly took good care of. I named her Sarah, kept her tidy, brushed her hair, took her on trips, kept her little white shoes clean, and always slept with her. Somewhere along the way, she was put into storage and forgotten. I never thought about her again, until about three years ago, when I was at my mother’s house, I was helping her clean out the basement. In a large space under the stairs that my father had once sectioned off as a “toybox” area when my brother and I were kids, I found Sarah buried until stacks of magazines, old suitcases, and musty smelling long unused bedsheets.
She was a mess! Her hair was a tangled mess, her felt skin had little smudges all over it, her shoes were gone and she was wearing the shirt from my old “Kid Sister” doll, which was much too big for my Sarah. Her hair ribbon was long since lost…
I took her upstairs and carefully began restoring her. I carefully cleaned her smudges, and even washed and conditioned her long red hair, and carefully combed all the gnarls out of it. I gave her one of my own ribbons, and very very carefully applied the lightest bit of makeup to her face to bring back her old, faded rosy cheeks and pink lips. I swore I would make her some new, better fitting clothes, and find her some shoes.
Well, I moved away a year after that. I thought that was it, she must have landed in the donation pile back home after I’d called my mother to tell her the news: I’m not coming back home, I’m getting married! She separated all of my things, I told her which things were important, and told her to donate all of my old stuffed toys to charity. Not until much, much later did I realise that my Sarah was probably in that pile. I felt a little bad, but such is life. She was just a doll, after all.
My mother called me one day several months ago, and we were discussing some of the clothes I’d left behind, if I wanted her to save certain pieces, or donate them all. I told her to set aside a couple of them, and she said she’d set something else aside, too. She said she’d saved a doll, because she thought it was so cute, and didn’t have the heart to just give her away. She said she had a button nose, and long red hair.
My mommy saved Sarah! She says she’s going to ship her back out to me around Christmas. 
