This is the ice cream lady. It is my firm belief that she is the exact souvenir half doll Mom received as a birthday treat at one of Indianapolis’s venerable department stores – a cheaper version of the elegant lady I used to illustrate that tale here. Dennison sold them by the dozen for party makers to use at home.
She has been living in this box with the darning thread for at least two years, waiting for her moment. During that time, she patiently cozied into her spot, where she perfectly fits and belongs. But then, all of a sudden, the other day I needed the box to hold wallpaper scraps. I took her out with some regret, knowing her home would never be quite the same.
It is funny, though, because even though the ice cream lady had been waiting a long time for her turn in the light by the window, it wasn’t until she left her little nest, that the big chance came. Now this is her spirit house, and mine – discovered by pure chance or pure unconscious, chosen now of her own free will, in anticipation of dreams yet to come.
I don’t know how the darning thread feels about all this upheaval, at all.