She lifted out a rag doll, which Dakra had given her for her
sixth birthday. She smoothed out her
dress and pressed back the auburn colored yarn hair. Her body was made from simple homespun and
her dress and apron were made from pieces of scrap fabric. The apron had red gingham apples and blue
bows sewn along the bottom. The face had
only been painted on and was now starting to fade with age, but the smile was
still cheerful and the blush of rose hiding beneath the freckles on her cheeks
always gave the doll the look of a dear friend.
Suddenly, Flindra was overcome with tears and she held the
doll closely as she wept. She'd always
figured that she would only be leaving this house to marry and start a family of
her own - the natural course of events.
Her beloved doll would then become her daughter's.
Now she was going and leaving her past behind. Ahead of her was nothing but a gray and
lonely unknown. It would be impossible
to take the mementos of the past with her.
Her only choice was to leave everything behind in the care of her family
and hope there would come a time when she could reclaim her past.
Flindra heard someone coming up the stairs. She quickly tried to hide her tears for she'd
vowed not to let her sorrow be seen.
"Flindra," her mother said as she brushed aside
the curtain. Her hands were still dusted
with flour and she wiped them on her apron.
"Little one, I heard you crying."
"I'm all right, Momma," she answered from the
floor. She still clutched the rag doll
to her breast. The rebellious tears
returned.
Dakra walked to the bed and sank to the floor beside her
daughter. "Oh, little one,"
she whispered as she gathered Flindra into an embrace. "I'm so sorry, my little one. I'm so sorry." She slowly rocked her back and forth as if she
were a tiny babe.
Flindra said nothing for a while as she relaxed in the
loving embrace. "Will you take care
of her?" she asked in a whisper, referring to the doll.
"Of course, dear one.
I'll see to everything."
"Thank you, Momma." She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be
comforted.
Dakra began to hum a lullaby she had sung to both her
children when they were young. It was
soft and soothing and awoke worlds of comfort in its notes.
"I love you, Momma."
"I love you, too, Flindra."
Both of them drew comfort from the closeness and lingered in
the embrace. They were stealing a moment
from the future when they would be apart.
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