Yesterday Klown, Tater and I hit some yard sales.  They are pretty hit or miss here; sometimes we find great things, and other times, we should have just stuck with the thrift stores.  You just never know.  And as usual, some of the least promising neighborhoods yield the most interesting and wonderful things.  Kind of like the best Chinese restaurants are always these terrible looking dumps.

So we drove aimlessly around this trailer park (a nice one, but still a trailer park) on the south end of our town.  We were driving aimlessly because the garage sale we were looking for had few signs.  There’d been a sign right at the front, but then no more directions, and this particular park is a huge grid of streets with no names, and every trailer is marked by a “number” but no real information other than that.  There are at least 300 trailers in this park, most of them double-wides with garages and carports and covered porches.  An older park, in decent condition.

We finally found the sale.  The ladies had some nice things, but nothing was priced, and I didn’t really find much that I was interested in.  Except for a baby doll, dressed in a worn and tattered batiste dress with pink ribbons.  This baby doll was old.  Very old.  Cloth body, and composite legs, arms, and head.  The composite was not plastic.  The doll was cracked, there were huge hunks missing from her legs under the dress, and she wouldn’t sit upright without help, her body was so deflated.  I don’t know why the baby doll appealed to me so much, but she did.  I debated asking about a price, but instead put her back, and we moved on to other sales.

The rest of the day, and all night, I swear I heard that baby calling my name.  I woke up this morning regretting that I had not bought that baby doll.  Or at least asked about her price.  I thought about driving back to the trailer park and knocking on the door, but that seemed a bit creepy.  And probably scary for the ladies having the sale, too.  So, I looked for the original ad for the sale on craigslist, where I’d seen it.  The ad was still there, so I clicked the contact email and wrote a quick note.  I said that I’d been at the sale and that there had been a baby doll there and that I had regretted not buying it, and asking if it was still available and for how much.

Within a few hours I got an email back.  The ad had been placed by a neighbor, Pat.  The ladies at the sale were sisters, had lived together for many years, and Pat had gone next door and asked them about the doll and if it would be okay for me to contact them.  She included one of the sister’s names and phone number in the email.  I placed a call, arranged a time, and went and picked up the baby doll. Martha, the owner of the baby doll, had carefully wrapped her in tissue paper and put her in a box, and handed me the box with gentle hands. That baby doll was well loved.  Very well loved.

Now she’s home with me.  As my guest room continues to evolve, it is taking on a country cottage theme, and the baby doll will be happy here.  I will be looking for a doll bonnet for her head, which is severely cracked.  And I’ll also find a little doll rocking chair or a pretty basket to put her in.  Her name, I think, should be Martha.

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