It’s been three years since my owner has left me here. I had heard many stories of others like me but had never imagined the time would come so soon. Sitting here in this box for so long is creating a crease in my dress. Soon my golden curls will start to fade and dust will gather on my carefully primped eyelashes. Who knew I would be forgotten? Who knew I would be left here feeling so alone?
Many years prior to my abandonment, I remember the earliest part of my life, being carefully assembled. My dress was put on, my eyebrows were drawn, and a brand name was tattooed to the back of my neck guaranteeing my authenticity. I was stuffed in a box and placed into a showcase with many others who looked just like me. I sat there day and night watching as hoards of smiling children pressed their faces against the glass. This was usually followed by mothers checking my tag, and shaking their heads at my price. Once I even heard the mother explain to her child that she would not spend thirty five dollars for something like me. At the time I didn’t understand.
One day, right before New Years, the smiling face was followed by a mother’s nod. I was then quickly whisked away in the arms of the little girl, paid for, and taken home. After time I was given a special spot on the little girl’s bed and got accustomed to an everyday schedule. When she would wake up in the morning she would greet me with a smile then carry me downstairs with her to breakfast. When she brushed her hair, she then brushed mine and assembled it into a matching neat bow. She would take me to the park, take me on the slide, and if she got hurt I was glad to wipe her tears. If she started to get tired I was the one she held when her eyelids finally closed. I loved her and she loved me.
Many years passed, the girl grew up, and soon she started going to school. Instead of spending time doing my hair she only had time for her new cell phone. When her friends came over she would hide me in the closet to spare herself of having to explain. After a while she started forgetting I was hidden there and I would spend weeks among her dresses and shoes. I wondered what was different, and I tried to call out to her but no sound would leave my porcelain lips.
On a snowy morning when the girl was in school, the mother stuffed me into a box. It wasn’t a clear one like when I was made, but a brown dirty one. She carried me down the stairs which I hadn’t seen for years, but instead of stopping at the kitchen where the girl used to have breakfast she took me down another flight of stairs. When she reached the bottom she put the box down with a careless thug. Before she left she took a look at me, sighed, and shook her head like those disapproving mothers used to.
Here is where I have been sitting for three years, in this cold, dark, basement. In the beginning I thought the mother had forgotten me like the girl had done so many times, but in a week or two would remember I was here and rescue me. That time never came. I remembered the times the girl would smile at me with happiness and contentment. I wondered what I did wrong. I wondered why she abandoned me. I wondered why she stopped loving me.