I thought I might be writing an obituary
for Mia this week. She has disappeared
so many times, only to be recovered in the bottom of the stroller, tangled up
in the blankets, or just pointedly gone—like the time she flew off the top of
the car and we spent 45 minutes combing the edge of the high way and never
found her. For three dollars she was
resurrected in a bin of dolls at our local pharmacy, the last doll of her kind. She was wearing a different dress than the
original Mia, but Morgan quickly remedied that by taking the doll’s clothes
off.
Several months after Mia was lost on the
edge of the highway, Morgan and I were returning from a trip to the lower 48
when the new Mia must have decided that airplane travel was so fun, she’d just
hide under the seat. Morgan took the
“Mia’s on a big adventure” explanation pretty well. Her friend Gully had the same doll however,
and whenever she went to his house she quickly began asking for Mia’s
whereabouts. After some careful consideration,
Gully decided to give Morgan custody of Mia.
What a friend.
These days, Morgan zips Mia into her
jacket or snowsuit before heading out the door. This makes me nervous, as I know this is truly
the last Mia. I came home from the
grocery store this week just as Morgan and her Dad were returning from a short
snow machine ride. When I got out of the car Morgan unzipped her jacket to show me Mia. Hmm. Not in the jacket. So she unzipped her snowsuit and looked
inside. No Mia!
We called our neighbors. She wasn't there. Her Dad got on the snow machine and went back
over the trail. It was getting
dark. No Mia. Morgan had a fitful night
sleeping. The next day before lunch we
walked the trail calling for Mia and looking under the spruce trees. Morgan was taking the loss pretty well, after
all, these dramatic Mia disappearances have become pretty common. As Morgan napped I sat on the front porch
thinking how difficult it would be for Mia to
slip out of Morgan’s snow suit. Mia had to be in the work truck, her Dad must have set Morgan in the
truck, and while he worked on something she must have checked on Mia.
Sure enough there she was, her little
toes poking out under the drivers seat. When Morgan woke up it was a casual reunion; Morgan was ultimately confidant in Mia’s
homecoming. However, she’s since been keeping
a closer watch on that sneaky doll. All
the search parties for Mia has me wishing that I could protect Morgan indefinitely
from loss—which I know is both futile and stunting. But I cherish these days when dolls go and
come like nymphs, and when explanations can be as easy as “it’s magic!” Most of all I cherish Morgan’s trust that her
parents won’t let anything bad happen.
In and around the sides of a truck are definitely 'catchers' for things long-considered lost. We have a story of several flashlights in similar vein.
ReplyDeleteI love your story, though, for the way you document so clearly the fairytale reality--the serendipitous magic--that _is_ reality when you're Morgan's age.