Nested Dolls

I stumbled upon a set of nested dolls in the attic. My uncle had given them to me as a birthday gift.

With a leisurely weekend ahead, I decided to unpack the set of nested dolls. To my astonishment, the dolls had undergone a remarkable transformation. Their once uniform colours and expressions had evolved into a diverse array, each doll now bearing a unique identity.

How did this happen – silently, imperceptibly in the attic while no one was looking? What if it had remained there unattended?

It’s a wonder these dolls didn’t meet a different fate. Left unattended in the attic, they could have easily been discarded as useless, sold at a garage sale, or worse, ended up in the hands of a junk collector.

A message flashes on the phone. Martha is organising a sale of stories as audio clips or printed on cards at the Sunday brunch at Hotel Mental. She would like me to participate. I look at the dolls again and wonder about the messages hidden in the changed demeanours.

I am not the same person I was when I received the gift with glee. Growth is about being an experience collector. Growing old is about not transforming experience into wisdom.

I can translate my life experience into many small stories. Martha won’t be disappointed.

---

RXC #385