The gift I remember most vividly is the bear doll my mom gave me when I was in kindergarten.
The bear was enclosed in a box shaped like a miniature, old-fashioned leather suitcase. The outside was light brown and the leather was very detailed. Each of the eight corners was protected by triangles of darker brown leather. There was an elegant, old-fashioned lock on the front of the suitcase, and there was a key to open it.
The cunning details of the little suitcase were cute and attractive and the inside of the case was even more impressive. I think every little girl would have been thrilled by such a gift.
When I opened the lid, I saw a fluffy bear inside the case, and she looked so cute. She was wearing a bib with her name—Anna—embroidered on it in pink thread. On the other side of the suitcase there were three small hooks with three delicate little clothes-hangers hanging from them. The clothes were even cuter: from the first hook hung a blue-and-white-striped navy shirt with a thin, blue-velvet skirt sewn onto to the shirt’s hem. I thought: Anna must look beautiful when she wears it. From the second hook hung a little pair of yellow pajamas with tiny white five-pointed stars embroidered on them … beautiful! The clothes on the third hook were even more lovely: There was a petite white shirt with red, yellow, and blue stripes on it, and underneath the shirt was a very stylish pair of miniature jeans, which looked very impressive. The little suitcase was lined in a checkered fabric in the same shades of light and dark brown as the leather on the outside of the case. Anna’s clothes looked sophisticated and generous.
I can still remember myself when I was five. Every morning, I took Anna out of her box, changed her clothes, combed her whole furry body with a small comb, and set her among my other toys. Together, the toys were allowed to play together in a little classroom of their own while I was away at kindergarten. When I came back from school, I would go and check whether Anna and her friends were “playing” correctly. Fortunately, all the toys were very obedient and never fought or made a fuss. At night, when I did my homework, I would read Anna my newly-learned text. When it was time for bed, I put Anna’s pajamas on and hung up all the rest of her clothes item by item. I gazed at Anna in her tidy little suitcase bedroom. After laying her down for sleep, I would close her door and set her suitcase on my bedside table.
Although I have been away from this gift for many years and I don’t play with Anna as much as I used to, I still put her on my bed. She is a unique and precious memory of my childhood.
The bear was enclosed in a box shaped like a miniature, old-fashioned leather suitcase. The outside was light brown and the leather was very detailed. Each of the eight corners was protected by triangles of darker brown leather. There was an elegant, old-fashioned lock on the front of the suitcase, and there was a key to open it.
The cunning details of the little suitcase were cute and attractive and the inside of the case was even more impressive. I think every little girl would have been thrilled by such a gift.
When I opened the lid, I saw a fluffy bear inside the case, and she looked so cute. She was wearing a bib with her name—Anna—embroidered on it in pink thread. On the other side of the suitcase there were three small hooks with three delicate little clothes-hangers hanging from them. The clothes were even cuter: from the first hook hung a blue-and-white-striped navy shirt with a thin, blue-velvet skirt sewn onto to the shirt’s hem. I thought: Anna must look beautiful when she wears it. From the second hook hung a little pair of yellow pajamas with tiny white five-pointed stars embroidered on them … beautiful! The clothes on the third hook were even more lovely: There was a petite white shirt with red, yellow, and blue stripes on it, and underneath the shirt was a very stylish pair of miniature jeans, which looked very impressive. The little suitcase was lined in a checkered fabric in the same shades of light and dark brown as the leather on the outside of the case. Anna’s clothes looked sophisticated and generous.
I can still remember myself when I was five. Every morning, I took Anna out of her box, changed her clothes, combed her whole furry body with a small comb, and set her among my other toys. Together, the toys were allowed to play together in a little classroom of their own while I was away at kindergarten. When I came back from school, I would go and check whether Anna and her friends were “playing” correctly. Fortunately, all the toys were very obedient and never fought or made a fuss. At night, when I did my homework, I would read Anna my newly-learned text. When it was time for bed, I put Anna’s pajamas on and hung up all the rest of her clothes item by item. I gazed at Anna in her tidy little suitcase bedroom. After laying her down for sleep, I would close her door and set her suitcase on my bedside table.
Although I have been away from this gift for many years and I don’t play with Anna as much as I used to, I still put her on my bed. She is a unique and precious memory of my childhood.
