I’ve loved and played with
dolls my entire life.
My security blanket at age three: a Native American squeeze doll. Press her heart and she squeaks. Dad said I would pop the doll’s head off and cart it with me everywhere I went. He finally stopped putting the doll’s head back on its body because I’d pop it off again and again.
When Dad died in 2004,
I found her, my first doll love. Dad kept her safe
in a box of his personal belongings along with
other items I hand crafted for him
throughout my childhood.
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