1980

I remember getting her. I remember him coming back from somewhere. I must have been only two or three but I remember it.

My daddy gave me her.

She looks now just about how I feel about him. Like at one point she was new and loved. Then as the years go on, the face wore off. Even though I tried to draw it back on… it isn’t the same. She had a long dress to match her hat. I don’t know where that dress is now. The clothes are different and they don’t quite fit her.

She looks dirty. I know that with a good tumble through the wash she would maybe be better. I don’t wash her though because I know that she will fall apart, her face will disappear and I’m not quite sure if I even want to draw it back on.

She looks disappointed. She looks like until she was four her daddy was there and then he wasn’t. She looks like she was put on an airplane to fly alone to visit him and his new family.

She looks older than she is. She looks like even though she might have been many years younger then her step sister she was the responsible one. She looks like she had to be responsible for someone and their sickness. She looks like she felt it was up to her to keep her step sister safe.

She looks exhausted. She looks like she figured out that her daddy is just a man with a mental illness, a sociopath. She looks like she hasn’t talked to him in 20 years. She looks like she might be staring at the screen when she googles his name and sees his obituary.