My mom's favorite doll
When I was a little kid, I used to play with this large bear toy with dark brown fur. He wore overalls and a light blue shirt, his arms, legs and led could move, and his mouth was always open. Like most Russian bear toys, he was called Misha (a play off of "Mishka," the diminutive form of Russian word for bear). A lot of the times, I cast him as a bad guy. Looking back, it was probably because he was bigger than other toys, and because, when I was a little kid, part of me worried that, if I stick my hand in his mouth, he'd bite it off.
It wasn't until many years later that I found out that Misha was originally my mom's. And that he was one of her favorite toys.
Her other favorite toy was Katya, a life-like toddler doll, the kind that would close its eyes when you put her down. I didn't play with her because, well, boys don't play with dolls, and if they did, it would be with more Barbie-like dolls annanov would later get, because they were like adult people, and you could play action movies with them... But I'm getting off=topic.
My mom brought Misha over to United States a few years back, but Katya was left behind. I can't say I thought too much about her. But a few days ago, my mom went to back to St. Petersburg for a brief stay. And after she left, she wrote this post. And... even though, like I said, I've never been fond of Katya the way I was of Misha, this legit made me misty-eyed.
Especially this part:
The Katya doll was gifted to me, or, should I say, gifted to my mom, on my birthday. The same birthday as Misha, who I took back a few years ago. And Katya was left alone. I was very afraid to embark on her move, because she is so old and fragile, and I couldn't even imagine how I would pack her. Plus, she was big.
...The Katya doll was made like a child, a full-sized child. With all of the child body proportions, with chubby arms, legs and cheeks. Like Misha, when you take her in your arms, she feels like she's alive. And I so loved to take her in my arms... When I played with her, she was my sister. It was so easy to imagine. When I was in elementary school, I even used to say that I have a little sister named Katya. I so wished that I would have someone :) And when they found out the truth, they said I was a liar...
... And this time, I decided that, yes, I will definitely take her. I came up to the armchair where Katya sat, and took her in my arms. And I realized that, in all of those years, even though I've seen her every time I visited my mom, I never once took her in my arms. And when I took her, I knew that this was it. I won't leave her. I whispered in her ear: Ready to go? Say your goodbyes!
Today, I took her out of the suitcase - for a photoshoot and to repack her before the flight [back to United States]. And I couldn't let her go - I hugged and felt her. Remembered how she smells :)
Here are more photos of my mom with Katya in the original post.
Honestly, thinking about it... I think it wasn't just the story that got me. The word my mom used was "прощай," which, as I've written before, means "goodbye forever."
For the past few years, but especially in recent months, I had to come with the grips with the fact that I may never see that apartment in St. Petersburg again. I did have plans to try to use some of the money my dad and Grandma Tanya gave me to at least try moving forward visiting Russia, but the events of the past five months have torpedoed that. Who knows when I'll have money to set aside again?
Reading this passage made me think about how I probably wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye to the apartment I grew up in.
Well, that and it really is a very sweet story. Which happened to be about my mom. So yeah, it was probably going to get me either way.
It wasn't until many years later that I found out that Misha was originally my mom's. And that he was one of her favorite toys.
Her other favorite toy was Katya, a life-like toddler doll, the kind that would close its eyes when you put her down. I didn't play with her because, well, boys don't play with dolls, and if they did, it would be with more Barbie-like dolls annanov would later get, because they were like adult people, and you could play action movies with them... But I'm getting off=topic.
My mom brought Misha over to United States a few years back, but Katya was left behind. I can't say I thought too much about her. But a few days ago, my mom went to back to St. Petersburg for a brief stay. And after she left, she wrote this post. And... even though, like I said, I've never been fond of Katya the way I was of Misha, this legit made me misty-eyed.
Especially this part:
The Katya doll was gifted to me, or, should I say, gifted to my mom, on my birthday. The same birthday as Misha, who I took back a few years ago. And Katya was left alone. I was very afraid to embark on her move, because she is so old and fragile, and I couldn't even imagine how I would pack her. Plus, she was big.
...The Katya doll was made like a child, a full-sized child. With all of the child body proportions, with chubby arms, legs and cheeks. Like Misha, when you take her in your arms, she feels like she's alive. And I so loved to take her in my arms... When I played with her, she was my sister. It was so easy to imagine. When I was in elementary school, I even used to say that I have a little sister named Katya. I so wished that I would have someone :) And when they found out the truth, they said I was a liar...
... And this time, I decided that, yes, I will definitely take her. I came up to the armchair where Katya sat, and took her in my arms. And I realized that, in all of those years, even though I've seen her every time I visited my mom, I never once took her in my arms. And when I took her, I knew that this was it. I won't leave her. I whispered in her ear: Ready to go? Say your goodbyes!
Today, I took her out of the suitcase - for a photoshoot and to repack her before the flight [back to United States]. And I couldn't let her go - I hugged and felt her. Remembered how she smells :)
Here are more photos of my mom with Katya in the original post.
Honestly, thinking about it... I think it wasn't just the story that got me. The word my mom used was "прощай," which, as I've written before, means "goodbye forever."
For the past few years, but especially in recent months, I had to come with the grips with the fact that I may never see that apartment in St. Petersburg again. I did have plans to try to use some of the money my dad and Grandma Tanya gave me to at least try moving forward visiting Russia, but the events of the past five months have torpedoed that. Who knows when I'll have money to set aside again?
Reading this passage made me think about how I probably wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye to the apartment I grew up in.
Well, that and it really is a very sweet story. Which happened to be about my mom. So yeah, it was probably going to get me either way.