stuffed love

A friend I hadn't seen for months came to town, bringing her five-year-old daughter to visit family. We went to lunch and caught up and when the hour was up I went back to work and they continued on to find more parks and swings. Half an hour after I'd left them, my friend called, asking if I remembered seeing her daughter's doll. It was missing and could I check the restaurant? It was her favorite. Of course, I said. I'd go back now. Her daughter hadn't noticed it was missing yet. I called her back ten minutes later, unsuccessful. I hadn't been able to find it; it was gone.

Somewhere, a little girl's heart is breaking and we hope it won't be one of those traumatic events that scars you enough that twenty years later you're blogging about it. I told her mother to tell her that the doll had given all the love she had to her daughter and now it was time for her to find another family and another little girl who needed the doll's love too. I don't know that this will work, but if I'm ever in a position where I have to break up with someone, I think this is the line I may use.

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