“Miss Priss”


Many, many years ago, when I was a little girl, my grandmama kept two beautiful dolls on her bed. Dolls that I was allowed to admire only from afar.

One doll was white. She had curly blond ringlets that tumbles from under a fine bonnet. She wore a elegant dress that fanned out over the bed pillows and spread.

photo: Hatch Collection of Black Cloth Dolls.

The other was a very old torn and tattered black rag doll. My grandmama called her “Miss Priss”. I remember being fascinated and very curious about Miss Priss. She was a mystery. All I knew about her is that she was very old and handmade.

Miss Priss had a happy friendly face, but to me she seemed sad, neglected and in need of a friend. I wanted to be Miss Priss’s friend. I wanted to make her new clothes and to cuddle with her. I imagined us playing, giggling and sharing secrets at bedtime. I was certain that Miss Priss needed me and that I surely had to have her. The only problem being, Miss Priss belonged to my grandmama.

After years of listening to my grandmama’s life stories, it became clear to me that Miss Priss was more than simply her doll. Miss Priss was my grandmama’s life long best friend and the keeper of her memories, stories and secrets. So eventually, I reluctantly gave up my bids to own Miss Priss and grew content to quietly love her from afar.

I don’t know whatever became of my grandma’s old rag doll. Of course now, I wish I did recognizing her value beyond the sentimental in today’s antique cloth doll market.

Dollin' Blessings!!! until next time....


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