She is an American Girl

I took a trip to the American Girl Store on 49th the other day. I'm still dying to own one of those. Seeing all of those dolls drew these feelings that I haven't felt since I was a little girl. As a child I used to play with dolls religiously. It was my absolute favorite thing to do sometimes with my best friend sometimes alone. I think that is where I dreamed up some of my stories. I remember thinking that by acting I would be a grown-up doll I guess. Putting on costumes and saying someone else's words. I would get to live a different life besides my own and see how other people behaved. 

In that store looking at those blank little faces behind the glass I remembered my Grandmother and how she kept some really cool dolls behind glass cases and when she would leave me alone in her house, I would sneak into her drawer and get the antique key and open the case, It was very "Indian in the cupboard." 

It's strange what time and trauma pushes back in your memory and how the slightest most obscure thing can rip it right back into focus again. As children we are taught to grow up. Often I remember wanting and wishing I was older, I wonder now if I had enough time just being a kid. I wonder if parents of young children sometimes have that moment of discovery through their children. Maybe that will be my new goal, to start seeing things more through the wide eyed optimistic mind that I had as a child and not the cynical, sarcastic, enlightened mind I have now as an adult. How could I possible be a Mother one day when I can't even be a kid?