I walked over to her house for a little bit and as I was crossing the yard a splash of red caught my eye and I looked more closely and my heart just sank because I instantly recognized my stuffed Mickey Mouse Santa doll that I'd had since I was 16. I have carried it everywhere since then until I moved to Washington last year. I couldn't fit it in any of my bags so I asked mom to hold onto it for me. I couldn't believe it and I instantly started crying because that doll has meant so much to me for so many years. What I mean by that is that it was the first time that mom had ever gotten me a gift with some thought into what I would like and it carried me through some bad times with her later on, damn things been soaked in tears more times that I can count. He was far from being undamaged because part of his little string mouth was gone since H had pretty much chewed it off when he was a baby trying to give Mickey a kiss, but he still looked good for being with me for almost twenty years.
Mom told me it'd be okay to wash him on the gentle cycle but given his age and no telling how long he sat out on the ground in the rain... I'm scared to even attempt it.
It just breaks my heart that she didn't care enough to keep him safe for me. Though I shouldn't be surprised, my whole family thinks that my tendency to hold onto gifts for years is a bit strange.