Baby doll

Every little girl at some point or another has owned a doll before. She has cared for it, played with it, and loved it dearly. I was one of those girl. Growing up I was always surrounded by frilly, girly, things. My grandmother loved spoiling me with lots of things, one of those things being dolls. I can still remember to this day the very first of many dolls she gave me. It fit so perfectly against my small arms, as if she was made for me and gave the slightest smell of sweet roses. Those bright, electric blue eyes that never closed blankly stared up at mine. I don't recall ever giving her a name but all i know is that to my 4 year old  self she was mine, no one else's.  Those were the years of carelessness, the years of when time seemed  to stand so still, the years filled with pure innocence where you could trust anybody.
A few days ago i happened to stumble upon that very first doll doll. Encased in a dusty trunk filled with keepsakes, there she laid at the bottom. Memories rapidly raced through me so fast I could barely keep track of them. Nothing had changed, she still looked the same way she did when I buried her in that chest when i was 8. Happiness plagued me when I started to remember all those fond memories I had of playing with her, yet somehow intertwined with that happiness was sadness. I couldn't understand at first why I had begun to feel that way and that question stuck to me like glue the entire day. Then it suddenly dawn to me at night while I was trying to fall asleep the reason I had felt that. I hadn't felt sad because I felt guilty of forgetting about something that once meant so much to me, it was because that doll along with those memories where evidence that things had changed. Time had passed, I had changed, I had grown up and my childhood days were far far gone.
As little kids all we can think about is growing up. Being teenagers, having freedom, staying past our bed times. What we don't realize is how we lucky we are to be little kids, to not have so much responsibility to carry on our shoulders. Those were the days of pure bliss, where we didn't have any worries except deciding on which corner of our paper we were going to draw the sun. I remember coming home from school and running straight to my room to play with that doll. That eagerness that I had contained during the school would break free as soon as I stepped off the bus and into the house. The weekends were filled with tea 'parities' that i would host in my room, with my doll being in the center. I begin to laugh at myself when I ever I recall such memories. It seems silly to me now but if my 5, 6 year old self would hear me say that she wouldn't have understood why I thought that.
Im glad  I have those memories, I'm glad that i was able to enjoy my childhood. We saw the world in such a different perspective then. It wasn't until we grew up that we saw how corruptive the world is and that we break everything and in the process of doing that we hurt people. The next day as I carefully put that doll back into the chest it wasn't the only thing that I was putting away in there. I was also putting away those childhood memories into a safe place, where time stood still.