Debbie

I have been thinking of my childhood for the past week. There are so many wonderful memories. Truthfully, I cannot think of even one unpleasant one. Events that had long been forgotten are popping into my head. Of course they all involve my parents. One story came to me as I was laying in bed last night. When I was about eight years old, I got a baby doll named Debbie for my birthday. I still have her on my nightstand. She was so important to me. When I was ten, I went to sleepaway camp. I left Debbie home because I was afraid I would lose her if she made the trip with me. Through letters, I found out that my parents were going on a seven day cruise. I was frantic. Debbie would be alone all week. I was only ten, so I did not think that she was just a doll and it would be fine. On my weekly call home, my mother heard how upset I was. She promised me that Debbie would go with her on the cruise so I had nothing to worry about. On visiting day a week later, my mother brought me pictures of the cruise. I saw Debbie on the ship. I saw Debbie in the Bahamas. I saw Debbie at the Straw Market. She had actually carried Debbie all over in her handbag because she knew how important she was to me. That was my mother.