MaddieI reach up and take my doll off the shelf in our back bedroom, the room I share with Katy. I’ve had the doll since I was a little girl. I named her Tessa long ago, but the reason why is lost to memory.Not a single dust mite flies off when I pull her down and hold her close. No, I keep this shelf very clean, the one with the few treasured keepsakes our family owns. Cindy’s baby rattle, Katy’s wooden kitten that our father carved from teak wood, and Josh’s toy horse, also made by Father’s hand, sit in their places on the spotless shelf.I won’t take Tessa with me to the castle. That would be silly, though I will miss seeing her every day. Mother made her with rags when I was small, and the gingham dress she’s wearing, though tattered, has been mended many times through the years.After giving her a little hug, I set her back on the shelf and grab my bag. It’s also homemade, sewn together by Mother from the prettiest old sheets we had. She stayed up all night hand sewing it so, a
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