Little People for my little people

My parents, while junked-up kitchen counters and coffee tables were their specialty when I was a kid, did not keep any of my childhood toys or clothes. We lived in a 1,000-square-foot house with no attic and no basement and no garage, so it was a matter of logistics that there just wasn’t room for such storage. I have to admit that I’m a little jealous of people whose parents kept at least some of their toys to pass along, as I had literally none. At all.

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When my mom died in April, my sister and I were very civil about how we divided up her personal belongings. When there was a dispute, we found a fair (and usually random) way to settle it, but I don’t think either of us left with hard feelings. Mostly it was jewelry we had to divide up, saving some for our own kids, too, but there were some other things that we had to divvy up too. It was a difficult process, but at least made easier that we didn’t really fight over anything.

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When I was cleaning through my mom’s closet, I ran across a large plastic storage tote in the back. In it, there were just some old shower curtains and beach towels, until I got to the bottom. In the back corner of the storage tote, I found one of the original Little People (pictured here) from when I was a kid. It’s larger than the Little People of today, and had some sort of unknown stain on the head. While I didn’t have a specific memory of that particular Little People character, I knew that I had to have it.

I knew I would be willing to fight my sister over that one item — a representation of my childhood. A relic of my past that grows more distant each day.

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Thankfully, my sister had no such attachment and I gained the Little People (Person?) without any objection.

The stain didn’t come off the head, but that doesn’t matter. To see my own little people playing with my Little People makes me smile. I don’t think my mom kept it on purpose — I think it just got lost in the shuffle of everything else they owned, but I was glad it made the journey through all those years.

And when it’s time to pack up my girls’ Little People, I’ll set a few of their favorites aside, as well as the one that brought my own childhood back to life. They might not appreciate the history of it like I do, but who knows, maybe they will.

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