Here is a photo of my mother’s doll Jane.
Sally was not a materialist. She liked nice things but when she was done with them, out they went to a bin in the garage, earmarked for the annual church bazaar. Books, clothes, tchotkes, nothing was exempt. Not even presents we girls had given her for Mother’s Day. When we moved from one part of town to another in 1975, all of our childhood art projects to date got “lost in the move”, Kon Mari’d with laser precision before Kon Mari’ing even became a thing.
So it is interesting to see the things that my mother actually did keep. Set in a bookcase in the guest room, the doll is the one item from Sally’s childhood that remains. Sally took this photo of Jane on November 2, 2016 from a reclining position on the queen sized guest bed, Sally’s chest heaving up and down with “the crud”.
Sally’s word for 2016 was TREASURE. Somehow my mother understood, in the last full year of her life, that she was to treasure memories and moments, both good and bad.
If you look closely at Jane, she is basically bald. She is naked. She is literally down in the heel, her fingertips battered, her limbs akimbo. Jane, however, is largely intact. She is well-loved. Jane is a perfect metaphor for a life well lived, prepared for eternity, still not played out. A keeper.