My Grandmother’s Doll - by Felipe Tapia

Everyone has a treasure, whether it’s sentimental or valuable, a memory or a huge rich portrait of your grandfather. A treasure could be anything from a piano to a harmonica, from a grain of sand to a gold mine. Maybe the treasure costs five dollars or maybe it costs thousands of dollars. My treasure? It may seem unusual because I am a boy, but my treasure is a doll.

This doll isn’t like the other ones : it looks like a chef, but it isn’t what you think it is. In his round dark eyes, you can see your future; in his melancholic smile you can hear his thoughts; in his tiny soft hands you can feel his call; and, maybe, if he trusts you, he will tell you his story:

“I was born in the old hands of your grandmother,” he said to me. “She made me with stuffing like clouds of cotton that she wrapped with a skin-toned body made with wool attached with some magical thread. She also made my hair with dirt-tone yarn like worms and an unwashed apron the color of snow. When she finished me, she put me on a shelf with other dolls like me. I remained motionless and quiet for month, or years, I don’t really know. I saw her pass me several times, each time slower. One day I didn’t see her pass me. So I understood that she was very sick and she had to stay in bed. Then, another day, you came. She was happy to see you again because the last time she saw you, you were only a little kid. So she took me with her soft trembling hands, and she gave me to you. When we left her house, I was really sad because I knew that I would not see her again for a long time. I wanted to cry but I could not. So I tried to convince myself that you might not be a bad person. So I came with you to France. In this new country I thought that all would be different, you would not leave me alone and you would, play with me, but I was wrong. You stored me in a box and forgot me. All was dark and quiet in this box for long time. Then, one day, you opened my silent prison and took me with your big hands. You looked sad and tears were streaming down your cheeks. So I understood that your grandmother and my creator passed away.”

This is my treasure: the sweet memory of my grandmother giving to me this doll. I will never forget her because now, this doll is always next to my bed. I learned that things become valuable to you only at critical moments and are never precious only by their monetary value.