By Rocky (Donna) Liberty
How to make a grandma cry. Take a labor of love, add in animal instinct, throw in some time (thyme), fate, and Voilà!
She was ten years old and the apple of my eye. I would die for my grandchild if necessary, but luckily, it hasn’t come to that yet. Happily, I made her clothes, toys, quilts, and many other items to show my love and affection.
It was the spring of her tenth year. My back was injured, so I was home from work for two weeks. For several months I had been collecting the materials – yarn, thread, muslin, everything I needed for this project. And now I could work on it.
For eight days and nights, I sewed diligently to create the two dolls. Both Raggedy Ann and Andy measured exactly three feet tall, with bright orange hair. Embroidered hearts that said “I Love You.” Sweet smiling faces and soft bodies, perfect for cuddling. I was immensely proud they had turned out so well!
My granddaughter adored the dolls. She loved them. I managed to get a few photographs of her holding them before she took them home. I envisioned she would keep and treasure them always.
Well, after having the dolls for approximately 6 months, the family decided to relocate. All dolls, stuffed animals, and toys were put on the top bunk in preparation for the move. The cats, getting the idea that change was afoot, took action.
My daughter called me the next day. “I had to throw out all those dolls. The cats peed on everything,”
This news was like a gut punch. NO. No way! No, no, no. All that work, all that loving effort, destroyed in a flash. The injury. The injustice. Tears of rage. Head to brick.
Sadly, my daughter was right to toss them. Inquiry after inquiry, we found out pretty much nothing in this world can get that smell out – short of burning.
My granddaughter will turn 30 soon. She hasn’t wanted a second pair of dolls … yet. Oh, best laid plans of mice and men.
And that is how to make a grandmother cry.
