Mrs. Beasley and the height of happiness

That's me in the image above, on Christmas morning long ago, at the height of my happiness and as filled with joy as a child could be. (My sisters, on the other hand, look as thought they've experienced their fair share of disappointment, don't they?) I'm the kid in blue, sitting on my grandpa's lap (my favorite person in the whole world), clutching my best Christmas gift that year, Mrs. Beasley.

Mrs. Beasley was a grandmotherly doll I first fell in love with while watching "Family Affair." Buffy, the little girl in the television show, had a Mrs. Beasley doll, and I wanted to be just like Buffy. The cool thing about Mrs. Beasley was she talked when you pulled her string. She talked about jumping rope together, telling secrets, and she told me she was once a little girl just like me. She had a pair of glasses that she didn't mind sharing with me when I wanted to wear them.

The magic of that morning and the joy I felt lasted for a day or two. Then our family packed up and drove to our maternal grandparents' home where we celebrated a late Christmas with our only cousins. I wrote about that visit a few years ago, and how my cousins violated Mrs. Beasley and her possessions.

I always felt bad for Mrs. Beasley for having to endure those dreadful cousins. Mrs. Beasley had a hard time reading or even seeing once her glasses were taken. It was never the same between us, as after that visit both of us were a little less joyful and a little more cautious about the outside world.


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