Doll with little arms warmed girl's heart

I have had many memorable Christmases — because I have had so many Christmases. I am 72 years old.

I was born at the beginning of the Depression years, so times were hard. I didn't realize this then because I never felt the least bit deprived of anything — especially love or security. I lived on a small farm in a small town with my two older brothers and my mama and daddy. I was the baby of the family, the only girl. I was much fussed over and had a wonderful childhood.

There was a warm, happy feeling in our home every Christmas. Our little stove in the parlor was always aglow with a cozy blazing fire. We had no furnace — only this stove and our cooking stove in the kitchen. There was no heat in the two bedrooms or the bathroom. I had a feather bed which was soft and fluffy — sooo comfortable! Each winter night my mama placed a heated brick (wrapped in a towel) in my bed to keep my feet warm. She would tuck me in bed with lots of quilts and blankets covering me. I was "snug as a bug in a rug." However, I would awake each morning with a bright red nose from the cold. There was thick frost on the inside of the windows. You can imagine how cold the room was.

One special Christmas Eve, I had a hard time getting to sleep. I was so anxious for Santa to come and I wanted to hear his sleigh bells. It was a special Christmas because I had asked Santa for a doll — my first doll. I was almost three years old and longed for a doll.

When I awoke on Christmas morning, I raced to the tree all alight with colored lights gleaming. I could hardly believe my eyes. I could dimly see what I thought was a baby sitting under the tree. She was dressed in pink and was quite large — almost as tall as I — but she was a doll. Santa had brought me a doll. A doll primly sitting there in an organdy dress and pink matching bonnet, tied under her chin with a shiny pink ribbon. She had a soft body, a porcelain head and arms and legs. As I looked closer, I noticed her arms. They were very small. The rest of the body was in proportion, but not the arms. I remember my mama saying, "This poor little baby — her arms are so little." My mother was very wise. She knew I would have sympathy for this doll and I did. I fell in love with her; I knew she needed me.

I named the doll Helen (after a pretty teenager next door). I took very special care of Helen.