Field-of-poppies-364165

 

I say goodbye to a doll

who wears a cotton dress

and a pine-green coat

her hair cut in one spot down to the roots,

my 8-year-old attempt at being a hairdresser.

 

I also wave farewell to a teddy bear

who I used hold in the night.

He once played music

but for some fifty years has been silent.

 

I see them disappearing into the distance

hand-in-hand like Pooh and Christopher Robin.

 

For years these toys have lived

the way memories do

shut inside a cabinet,

their presence unquestioned.

 

But one day I looked inside and saw

their journey was no longer with me.

 

I am not that girl

youngest of three

not the littlest one

the temper tantrum kid

the good girl

the mediator.

 

I’m also not the woman

without a child

but with a dog

the daughter

the sister

mate

athlete

writer.

 

All of these, and their memories

accompany the doll and bear

as they disappear down a country road

to embellish others’ lives.

 

This moment

I play naked

in the luminous poppy field

with my Beloved.

 

No memory but now

no identity but love.

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