When'd you get him? I ask.
Well, ever since I was, there was Ricky.
I know about Ricky because mom claims he was the reason she left dad. They were running a Salvation Army, and they had to move one night--fast--and they left Ricky. In a closet, she says, which was your dad's fault because he wouldn't let me keep him on the bed. So they kept him at the top of the closet and kept Joe in a pulled-out dresser drawer, and I hadn't been born yet but was well on my way, and come night, they had to get gone. And when we were driving off, I begged your dad to go back and get him, and he just shook his head no, said we owed too many people too much money.
For years I believed I would one day find Ricky for my mother. I still scour flea markets when I'm in the south looking for that little hard-bodied doll with two broken-off fingers that he lost in the mountains. It's as if I believe I might reverse the past thirty-two years, and then what? What would we make of the world then?
Me and my (long-divorced) parents
Note: Missing Doll
2 comments:
Ah yes... the never-ending Ricky saga. I don't honestly remember the facts surrounding the disappearance of Ricky, although I do remember he was very special to your mother.
There are a couple of things I'm pretty sure of though:
(1) If we were leaving the Salvation Army I don't believe we owed anybody any money. We were poor and broke and didn't have the luxury of having any credit with anybody except the hospital and doctors, and we couldn't really run from that.
(2) We just moved to an apartment in the same town, probably not more than 5 miles away, so it would have been pretty easy to go get Ricky the next day.
All I know is that things have worked out well. Yes, some treasures have been lost along the way but many more have been gained.
Many more indeed, Pappy. Well said. And thank you again, soooooo very much--both you and Linda--for driving a thousand miles (each way!) to be at the party on Saturday. It meant the world to me.
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