I Have a Story to Tell

To you it might sound funny, I find it funny myself, but then, it wasn’t really funny to me. When I was younger, before my mother had left me with my father, she had given me a raggedy Ann doll for my birthday that year. That was the year I last saw her. My 10th birthday. I still own that raggedy Ann doll, and it’s my most prized possession, and even though my mom isn’t with me, it’s like a part of her is with that doll. (I know stupid) But here is were the story begins. When I moved houses after I got into college, the day I had everything unpacked, it came to mind that I hadn’t seen Ann for a while now, so I started searching, and to my horror, I couldn’t find it. I searched every crook and canny of that house looking for that doll. I turned my entire house upside down and right side up multiple time. I was a mess. At one point of the day, my boyfriend and my best friend has come by to bring me some food they had bought at a dinner near by. The minute they entered the door way, they say the found me hysterical, in the living room, crying, with my makeup smeared all over my face, surrounded by overturned furniture. Why? Because I couldn’t find my doll. The three of us ended up going on a search that would last 2 more hours, until I found the doll in the place I didn’t think of checking.. An empty shoe box underneath my bed. Moral of the story, if you have an object of sentimental value. Don’t misplace it, and if you do, Don’t be like me, who lost her absolute shit and had a panic attack because of it..