543 Day Writing Journey

Cabbage Patch Kid. Day 472.

I was one of those 80’s kids who got a Cabbage Patch Doll. She was mine on Christmas morning.

Her name was Glorianne Alina. She was a bald preemie with a light-colored nightie on. She had a real diaper and tiny round toes. I loved her and still have her to this day.

I later learned how much of a fiasco the Cabbage Patch craze was. It’s never been appealing to me to join the Black Friday shopping or to line up to purchase the latest thing, but I suppose it’s cool to be part of American history.

For some reason, she popped up in my brain yesterday. Maybe it’s the ugly consumerism I’ve been witnessing, or maybe I was channeling my easier holidays, the ones before people started not being part of it. I’ve been thinking about Roger more than ever, and of others I miss.

I didn’t miss anyone in the 1980’s. I did not know loss until after that when my border collie mix, Shiloh, passed away with his head in my lap.

It takes great effort to enjoy the holidays after a loss, and I’ve learned that suppressing it creates a violent pressure in my head and heart. So, thank you, readers, for helping me alleviate some of it. It helps.

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