Meme has been relegated to the basement family room. She sits in a tiny chair by the fireplace I hate. She is surrounded by Rubbermaid boxes containing fragments and shreds of my life. Her arms are reaching out as if she is trying to keep them from falling on her.
I haven’t thought about her very much. I would say I’ve been too busy to even notice.
Something interesting happens with the doll. Most people who see her think she’s Emily! Now when I think of her as Emily, Meme becomes a beautiful doll; full of talent, smarts, common sense, beauty inside and out.
Now that is imagery I like. Meme is Emily?
When I think of everything I’ve done in my life and all of the things I hate about myself, one thing that I am always, ALWAYS proud of is that I am Emily’s Mom. She is incredible. She is all that is good. She has grown to be an independent woman who makes her own choices. She is not a replication of me, though I suppose I do enjoy her success as my own – just a little bit. When I think of myself and all that is good, I look at Emily and know I did something right. I’ve helped to raise a woman of integrity, dignity, charity and warmth. I am so proud of her. Her father would be too. She makes me proud of me.
So I now look at Meme in a whole new way. She is truly all the potential I hold. Just like Emily was full of potential at her birth. I am full of potential too. Meme isn’t empty, she is full of possibility. I like that.
Meme isn’t a toy for me to hate. She is just an empty shell waiting to be filled up with the potential of newfound experiences, memories and joys.