On the streeets of Birmingham, Alabama.
A glorious, cool morning in May.
The sun’s heat was warm but not brutal as it would be later in the day.
Walking in Birmingham
Mabel’s Mother was at the hospital receiving her daily dose of radiation.
Pushing Miss Mabel in her stroller, I spied this little doll in front of a house.
The expression on its face reminded me of someone waiting and watching.
My imagination was piqued.
Whose little baby doll was this?
How did it come to be here?
Who placed it in this position?
The careful, seated position of the doll told me that it had not been tossed carelessly to the ground by a child called into supper.
The dirt on the doll and its clothing told me also that it had been there awhile.
This little doll placed outside the brick fence surrounding the house.
Southern Gothic novels and short stories flooded my brain.
I thought of Caddy with her “muddy drawers” in Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.
Just Passing Through
I may never walk down that street in Birmingham again.
Birmingham will remain forever a place in my heart of kindness and sadness.
Like this little baby doll, I am watching and waiting.
Like many things in life, this little doll’s story will forever remain a mystery.