40. My Doll

When I was an infant, I got a rag doll. It was a very plain, little doll (1), and it wore a clown outfit and a clown's hat. I used to take that doll to bed with me every night. I couldn't go to bed without my doll.

My mother (2) used to pretend that the doll was talking to me. She would make the doll dance and sing songs. I would talk to the doll. My mother would answer for the doll, but I was a baby, and I thought that the doll was actually talking to me.

That doll was my best friend (3). I took her everywhere. One time I took her to a store with me, and I left her on a shelf in the store. We were halfway home when I realized that I didn't have my doll with me. I was very upset (4).

My mother and I rushed back to the store. My doll was still there. I was so relieved. I hugged my doll, and I promised (5) myself that I would never leave her anywhere again. I couldn't imagine life without that doll.

Through the years, the doll became less important (6) in my life. I had other things to do, but the doll still sat on my bed during the day (7), and I still took it to bed at night.

I gave that doll a lot of love (8) when I was little. In fact, I loved the doll so much that she looks tattered and torn now. There are parts of her face and hands that are almost worn away. I had a lot of other toys when I was little, but none of them were ever so important as that doll.

I don't play with toys anymore, but that doll is still in my room. She sits in a special (9) chair in the corner. I'll always have that doll. No matter how worn out she is, I'll always keep her and cherish her as a part of my early childhood (10).