This little monkey doll belonged to my Dad, who was born in 1939 and passed away last October. We don't know who gave it to him, but his older brothers distinctly remember that it was his toy. Later, the monkey lived for years in my grandmother’s cedar chest; when she died in 1979 it went to my Dad. I brought it home with me when he went to a nursing home in 2008. It’s a good thing I dragged this little monkey down from his shelf, as I see that the paint is quickly peeling off his little composite head. In fact, there is a pile of it laying around where he was sitting. I didn’t notice that going on when I brought him home last year and I'm sure I would have. This gave me a strange feeling this morning, associating the disintegration of this doll with my dad’s death. So, I wrapped him up and put him in a storage box. We’ll see how he’s doing next year …
© 2009, copyright Stephen Mills
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