I’ve always been fascinated by miniatures. One of my favorite things in the world is the Coleen Moore’s Fairy Castle at the Chicago museum of Science and Industry Of course not everyone can have a personal dollhouse filled with priceless one of a kind artifacts, but as a young girl my dollhouse was my own little sanctuary where I built dreams of my own.
A Gift Made with Love
I remember that Christmas morning back in the 70’s when I came downstairs to see what Santa had left me. There before me, beaming like Elvis’ Graceland, was the most beautiful doll house I had ever seen. It was a large white 2 story house with pillars, shutters and window boxes filled with red plastic flowers. Santa nailed it, I was beyond thrilled. It was perfect……….
Santa (aka My parents) had worked for quite some time on this white palace for me. Every inch of it was made with love. The shutters were painted rulers, the front door sketched by hand and that Christmas morning the glow of a tiny Christmas tree lit in the dollhouse living room shined through the plastic windows.
But the best was yet to come. I wish I had photos of the inside but I can remember it clear as day. The kitchen cabinets were simple blocks of wood that my dad drew cabinets on. Dad also made a stone fireplace for the living room, a staircase and all of the furniture in the house. Mom used wallpaper scraps on the walls, sewed all the curtains and bedspreads for the tiny wood beds my dad had made. I spent countless hours playing with the dollhouse, on our family trips to New Orleans in my youth, we’d pick up little knick knacks here and there. A dining room table made of brass, little goblets along with gifts given to me by various family members filled every room.
An Empty Shell
Of course we grow up, toys get put away in boxes, and the dollhouse eventually went to another little girl to enjoy. A while after I had moved out of my parents house, the dollhouse found its way back home. Pieces had been lost over the years, the curtains ripped, the bedspreads moldy and the wallpaper peeling. But, the pillars stood tall still and the little plastic flowers were faded and dusty but still in place in the window boxes. Even the fancy thumbtack that was the front door knob was there. I dreamed of redoing the dollhouse in hopes of having a daughter to pass it down to someday, but in the meantime the dollhouse would sit neglected for a few years.
Life has a tendency to be cruel, unfair and takes us all on an individual journey filled with lessons that we learn along the way. In 1998 I became pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. With zest and excitement I remembered my dollhouse and started preparations on tearing it apart for the big redo. When the twins passed away, the dollhouse sat in my in-laws basement for several years before going into the shed. It was an empty shell. Every room gutted, the plastic flowers and the ruler shutters removed, filled with cobwebs and forgotten. And life went on.
Doll House Therapy
2016 was a difficult year which culminated in the end of my marriage. It was a very long term relationship and we both knew it was over. Before my ex-husband moved out that old dusty dollhouse became therapy sessions. We didn’t really know what to say to each other, it was an awkward time and living together definitely had it’s challenges. That’s when I came up for the idea for my dollhouse, a resurrection of sorts. One last project that we could work on together.
