Ragdoll

   High upon a prized shelf, amongst the snow-globes and the merry-go-rounds, sat atop a pile of fairy stories, was an old ragdoll. The room tinkled like chimes and the sun strolled in through the draped windows. The silence was soft. The room was mellow, draped in a petal-like glow.
   A tiny frame broke the stillness of the room, hurtling in with girlish sounds of swooning joy. She was small for the already small age of six. Her curly blonde was bunched on to her head in ribbons and cascaded around her face. Round cheeks puffed in to a bright grin upon catching sight of her favourite old ragdoll. She stood up on her delicately painted wooden chair and reached up, taking her doll in to her arms.
   The ragdoll swelled with pride and joy. Embraced in the arms of her lovely girl, she felt at home. Worth all the time sitting up on that high shelf watching the child play, worth it for these embraces and for sleeping with the peace of knowing she is loved. Every night before bed, Mom would come in and take the ragdoll off the shelf and place it carefully in to her child’s sleeping arms. She had a place in life, a purpose, whether it was living through the child’s days alongside her or sat watching as she grew.
   One day, the child came bouncing in to the room, throwing her satchel on the floor and pulling out a brand new ragdoll. Its bright red hair was neatly plaited and its smooth cream face sported a clear smile and rosy cheeks. The old ragdoll might have felt sad but looking at the child’s smiling face, sadness seemed too far away, swaddled in love and pride.
   A week passed and the old ragdoll remained up on her high shelf, growing in a sense of unease. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to her. Five days without being held had left her wondering if the sun hadn’t disappeared behind its clouds and left the room a little darker. When the child came home, light in her eyes peeled through as she threw her satchel to one side and climbed up on to the white chair. The old ragdoll would have sighed with relief if her soft cotton frame had allowed it. “It’s all ok”, she thought. The child smiles broadly as she gently pulled one of the blue silk ribbons out of the ragdolls dark hair. Clutching it tightly in her small hand she kissed the ragdoll and placed her back on the shelf. Hopping down, she pulled the new doll out of her bag and delicately tied the blue ribbon in to her red hair. Her infectious giggle carried across the room to the old ragdoll who looked down at her smiling face. “What’s one ribbon?” she thought.
   The next day it rained. The kind of rain that turns the whole world blue. The skies collapse in on themselves in a violent turbulence of fighting clouds. The rain falls, it doesn’t pound or race to the ground, it simply falls in an effortless, endless tumble. The lightening cracked trough the sky and shook the floorboards as the door swung open. The child walked in, not excited like before but desperate, soaking wet, crying and clutching her new ragdoll by the arm. The new doll and its pretty white dress were sodden with mud and tiny blades of grass. A tear reached through the dress and down the soft arm, billowing it’s insides out over the carpet. The child let out a sob and looked up, searching with her pearly eyes on the shelf for the old ragdoll. The ragdoll reached out her arms to the child and in that embrace promised to give anything never to have to see the child cry like this again. In one frantic motion, the child tore off the ragdolls old white dress and shoved her old dolly back on to the shelf. Still crying but calmer now, she dressed her new doll in the ancient new dress and held her up to the light. She let out a sigh and touched the area on the dolls arm where it was beginning to wear its insides out. The old ragdoll felt calm as the growing ease of the child filled her. The child picked up her newly dressed doll and left the room.
   Later that evening the ragdoll sat naked upon the high shelf, waiting for the dust to gather. Sitting there she thought about how happy she felt to be able to stop the child’s tears with something so simple as an old lace dress. It was dark in the room now, but the child still hadn’t come to bed. The only light spilled in from the landing through a slight gap in the door. A tall woman walked softly through the room, her feet patting gently on the carpet. She took the doll down from the shelf and smiled a sentimental smile as she ran her smooth fingers over her face. Lightly moving them away, the woman reached in to her pocket and took out a small pair of fabric scissors and proceeded to cut off the ragdoll’s arm from the seam. The ragdoll was confused but looking questioningly in to the mothers kind face, she only saw her concentration and found no answers. As Mom replaced the doll on her shelf, she suddenly understood. “Of course,” she thought. “Take whatever you need.”
   After an hour had passed, order had been restored to the room. The rain had stopped beating on the window pane and the lamps warmed up the room. More importantly of course, the child, dressed in her plaid pyjamas, was once again swirling round the room in a haze of smiles and giggles. The old ragdoll was content, from here on her shelf, propped up against the fairy stories, she was free to witness the child in her happiness. She had given up her ribbon, her dress and her arm but she felt more complete than ever. She watched as the child clambered in to bed, shortly after, Mom entered through the door holding the new ragdoll. The red-haired doll was clean and fresh, dressed prettily in a lace white dress and blue silk ribbon, a newly restored arm hanging limply at its side.
   Mom placed the new doll in to the warm bed and waiting arms of the beaming child. The child chuckled and squeezed the doll in to her face. “I love you” she whispered. “I love you more than anything.” Mom flicked out the light and left the place in its darkness. As the light left the room, the old ragdoll’s hope and purpose went with it. A huge cloud of failure and loss covered the little doll’s cloth body and draped her in sadness. Then, at approximately 10:12pm, the old ragdoll lay down on the shelf and died there.