Doll House

1

The wooden dollhouse sat there quietly, hoping for a coat of paint to finish it off so it could become some little girl’s dream house. The doll house hoped for tiny perfect furniture in the rooms, and a lovely tile floor in the kitchen. Maybe some “His” and “Her” towels on the tiny towel rack in the bathroom meticulously hand embroidered by a mother. 2

The dollhouse had been packaged as a kit in Georgia and been shipped to Pennsylvania where the family lived. It spent many of it’s days as separate pieces, wondering if it would ever be whole, wondering if it would ever be complete. Until one day in early October when the father had finally pulled the kit out and began constructing the tiny house for his daughter. He had glued the pieces together carefully and lovingly, placing the shingles on the room perfectly and making sure everything was just perfect. 3

There were tiny boxes with miniature furniture not far from the dollhouse and it knew that it belonged inside it’s many rooms. There was even a small plastic family of five ready to move in when the time was right. But now when the man came to work on the house, he worked slowly and sadly, taking his time with the tiny details. The dollhouse feared it would never be done in time for the girl the man clearly loved so much. 4

The day finally came when the father painted the house. He painted the outside white with light blue trim and painted the rooms all the same as well. He put down small carpets in the house to make it cozy and moved the family and all it’s furniture into the houses’ shell. The house was ready and it was excited to become some little girl’s toy. 5

Moving day for the house came and the father carefully moved it up the stairs to where the little girl’s bedroom was and placed it on an empty table that was the perfect size. He even took the care to tie a large Pink ribbon into a bow on the house so when the little girl would see it, it would be perfect.6

The house and the tiny plastic family waited for the girl to come into her bedroom and see them. They were ready to be hers and only hers, but the girl never came. Once a day, however, the father would visit the room where the house and plastic family lived and he would sit on the girl’s perfectly made bed and he would cry into his hands.7

The house never knew why.8