I heard the small footsteps and the wiggling doorknob before the light from the hallway filled my room. It can’t be time to get up yet, I thought to myself, but I think that every morning, so I rolled towards the clock. 4:00 am. No. Nope. 4 freaking am. No.
The light from the hall illuminated her nearly naked body. She must’ve peeled off her pyjamas in the night.
“I had a bad dream,” she said as she hurled “big baby” onto my bed, before returning to her own. I followed her small frame as she plodded back to her room. I pulled the blankets up to her chin, relit her nightlight and wished her sweet dreams.
I had nearly forgotten about big baby on the edge of my bed, until she hit the floor as I pulled up the the blanket.
She had been a gift from my grandmother. I know when she looked at the doll she didn’t see the frightening face looking that looked back at the rest of us, the wild hair or the devastatingly thinning fabric on the body, barely holding in her contents. She saw her own three daughters delighting over their brand new beauties on Christmas morning — or maybe it was their birthdays? The sweet blinding power of nostalgia.
It’s evident from the wear — and the pin prick in her earlobes — the doll was well loved and continued to be loved, long after she had stopped being played with. My grandmother carefully preserved her and another doll, my aunt’s, in a bag with several outfits and her original shoes until I too had a daughter.
My oldest was delighted to meet such a frightful creature; my nephew cried as I held her up. Her head flopped forward and her eyes opened wide and she stared directly at him. My husband and I shuddered as our daughter lovingly carried her to bed with her each night, tucking her in neatly beside her. Perhaps her young age allowed her to see past its appearance, or perhaps she enjoyed frightful items.
My grandmother sought out fresh clothing and hats for Big Baby and gifted them to our girls regularly, some complete with cutesie tiny doll hangers. Most of the time though, Big Baby sleeps amongst the other toys, completely naked, her torn body held together by several layers of packing tape. As even more time has passed she is at risk of disintegrating all together.
At 4 am, my disturbed mind imagined her dismembered, just a pair of arms and legs and a head with all of that scraggly hair. I would wrap up her remaining pieces and gift them to my unsuspecting siblings. 4 am does that to a person.
Even as she falls apart before my eyes and haunts our sleep, I haven’t had the heart to throw her away quite yet, although a couple more 4 am wake ups and I may change my mind.
