Treasures

We sat on the floor and peeked under the bed. We found a bag of doll clothes first and then a box of rag dolls. We spent some time dressing them up, trying new combinations of purple and pink and funky patterns. Then, curious, we looked under the bed again.

The large box was ugly on the outside and partially torn. Inside, we found beautiful porcelain dolls of various sizes. The Mexican señorita had large brown eyes and lustrous lashes. Then there was a redheaded cowgirl, a heavily made up beauty from Puerto Rico, a Brazilian cangaceira (a typical character from the Northeast), and a collection of Disney miniatures. We laughed as we uncovered a very old Russian doll I got when I was 6 years old. By now her porcelain skin was almost entirely white and her cheeks an unatural red. "I used to think this was the most beautiful doll in the world," I told her.

"Not very pretty now," I laughed. She giggled and agreed.

Last we opened a smaller box loaded with stuffed toys. I pressed the hand of the very purple Barney who knew her name and sang "You are special." We laughed some more.

I don't know how long we played. It was magical and unforgettable for both of us. Then I kissed her goodnight.

We work on our schedules and make sure we have achievable and measurable goals - racing after raises and promotions and making darn sure someone knows what we achieved. We spend hours on the computer. We fight. And as we fight for one more recognition and one more article and one more praise we forget our real treasures - the ones under the bed, the ones inside carboard boxes, the ones colored with joy and memories.

Suddenly, whatever I was going to write about tonight doesn't seem important at all.