Priceless

Tonight I went out visiting. Set out on display was a bride doll. The doll was similar to the one in the photo with the bouquet tied to the hand and the eyes that automatically closed when you laid it down. It looked just like the one I used to have as a child. But this wasn't my bride doll. The bride doll belonged to my older sister and has been sitting in a trunk for 50+ years. The doll was in the trunk; not my sister. She actually held this doll. My sister died when she was seven years old. In the trunk was her first kindergarten painting from North Heights Elementary School. I saw a drawing she made featuring a trip to the circus and a dancing horse-precious artwork. Also in the trunk were pictures made by her classmates from Maternity of Mary school. These pictures, drawn by 7 year old kids who by now must be hitting their sixth decade, featured a couple Thanksgiving pilgrims and many, many Christmas trees. She died in early winter. A card from the eighth grade class at her school documented gift of a pagan baby for the family - the baby would be baptized Cathy Ann. The cover on the card shows several missionaries with an Asian child sitting on the lap. Who is that pagan baby? Is she still alive? I saw the ribbon from her funeral bouquet marked "Daughter." I saw the cards from people who sent flowers. I saw the guest book. I gotta say, people in the 1950's have nicer and more legible handwriting than what I see today. Seeing all these items did not make me feel sad. I felt good to be remembering her with others who knew her too.