Another Toy Story

A sweet memory of my father...just had to share!

ANOTHER TOY STORY

By Sara Etgen-Baker

            “I can’t find Tiny.”  I tugged on mother’s arm.  “She’s lost.”

            “Did you look in your closet?”  Mother peeked around the corner of her newspaper.  “Look under your bed.”

            “I did, Mama.  She’s nowhere to be found!”

            “When did you last see her?” 

            “At school; I took her to school with me and….”  My heart sank to my toes.  “I must’ve left her there.  We’ve got to get her.  Pleeeease!”

            “Sweetie, school’s closed till Monday; there’s no way we can get her.”

            “But it’s dark there; she’ll be lonely; she’s probably scared and won’t be able to sleep without me.” 

            “She’ll be fine sweetie.  Scurry off to bed now.” 

            But in the middle of the night when I discovered that my Tiny Tears doll wasn’t with me, I stumbled through the dark to my parent’s bedroom and pulled on my father’s pajama sleeve. 

 “What’s wrong, Sweetie Pie.”

            “I miss Tiny.” 

He sat up in bed.  “Where is she?”

“She’s at school; she misses me; and she’s scared.”   

            “Okay Sweetie Pie; we’ll check on her.”  He picked me up, carried me outside, and placed me in the front seat of his truck. 

            We drove by my school peering into its windows.  “I see her.”  He turned toward me and patted me on the shoulder.  “She’s okay; she’s sleeping.”

            “I can’t see her daddy.  Are you sure?”

            “Yes, but let’s double check.”  He backed the bed of his truck up next to the building, stood me up in the bed of the truck, grabbed a flashlight, and cast a stream of light into the window.  “You see her now?”

            “Yes, Daddy!  I see her.  She’s okay!”

            “She’ll miss you; but see the other toys?  Tiny won’t be lonely.”

            It’s a sweet childhood memory of my father.  His selfless actions taught me that love is patient, kind, and protective.  And because he didn’t just dismiss my emotions, he validated the worthiness of my childhood emotions.  His validation was critical, for I didn’t feel abandoned, and I learned to both trust and embrace my emotions first as a child and later as an adult.