The woman stared at the door of the little house, wondering if she should ring the doorbell. Or knock. Or, if she stood there long enough, would the occupant sense her presence outside the door, the way her husband used to flinch and growl when she stared in the early morning, careful not to touch his sleeping face, bristling with days of scruffy beard.
She shifted the bundle of cloth so she could cradle it gently with one arm. She pressed the doorbell. Hearing no sound, she knocked weakly, then firmly on the door.
No answer.
She sighed, dramatically, as if someone might be watching. She looked at her bundle, the mysterious bundle she'd received a few hours before, with such a rush of hope and possibility. What had she been thinking?
She carefully unwrapped the bundle, just to look at it. The blankets held an old shoebox. She pulled the top off of the shoebox, which revealed an old ragdoll, blonde-haired and pig-tailed. It smiled up at her. She picked it up, put down the shoebox, and, looking around now to be sure that no one was watching, hugged it close, the yellow yarn brushing her cheek like a soft kiss.
The doll was surprisingly warm, and growing warmer.
When she was a girl, she used to stand by the dryer, waiting for her mother to unload her favorite blanket. She'd grab it and swaddle herself in its warmth, quickly, before it cooled. She thought about her blanket and her mother -- now older and sadder -- as she held the doll and rocked back and forth on the porch of the little house where the man had sent her with the doll.
But the warmth didn't fade like the blankets. In fact, it grew warmer.
She drew back to take a closer look, cradling the doll's head so it wouldn't flop. There were the little black knit eyes and the wide, red stitched smile.
The eyes...blinked. A puff of sweet air brushed her face.
The doll wriggled.
The woman stumbled back, nearly falling down the porch's concrete steps.
"What are you?" the woman breathed.
"Shhh," the doll said, and closed its eyes.
The door opened, and a black girl, no more than six, stood, nearly eye to eye with woman. The girl didn't speak, just stared, at this strange, disheveled woman on her sidewalk.
The woman stopped, composed herself, brushed the folds from her business suit. She took two steps to the doorstep, now towering over the girl.
"I believe this is yours," the woman said. The girl's eyes widened. She smiled.
"Can I have her?"
"Are you OK?"
"Uh huh," the girl said and thrust both of her arms out expectantly. "I am now."
The woman handed the doll to the girl, who mumbled a 'thank you' and closed the door, leaving the woman standing at her doorstep holding a child's blanket.
As she turned to go, the house began to glow, and she heard shouts of joy and laughter.
# # #
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