Читать книгу Secrets About Life Every Woman Should Know: Ten principles for spiritual and emotional fulfillment - Barbara Angelis De - Страница 13

My favorite place to go is where I’ve never been before.

ANONYMOUS

When I was nine years old, I fell in love with a doll I saw advertised on television. The TV said the doll cried real tears and even wet her diapers—it was appropriately named a Betsy-Wetsy Doll—and I was determined to have it. After much hinting on my part, my mother agreed to buy the doll for me, and so one Saturday morning we set off for the neighborhood toy store. I shook with excitement as I entered the shop and saw that it was overflowing with trains, Tinkertoys, teddy bears, every imaginable object of a child’s fantasy. I was sure I had arrived in heaven!

It didn’t take long for me to spot Betsy-Wetsy waiting for me on the shelf. I scooped her lovingly into my arms, promising to change her diapers as often as needed. As I walked down the aisle toward the cash register, a display of brightly colored boxes suddenly caught my eye. I stopped and gazed in wonder at the title on one of the boxes: ENCHANTED CASTLE—A PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR DREAMS CAN COME TRUE! it read in glowing gold and purple letters. Beneath the headline was a picture of the most magical castle I had ever seen. The castle looked like it was made of silver; it seemed to rise several stories from the ground, and was covered with towers and turrets and moats. There were tiny windows everywhere, and my imagination went wild: I pictured a starry-eyed princess who lived in luxury peering out from those windows, longing for a glimpse of her Prince Charming, who, naturally, was racing toward the castle on horseback to carry her off to a land where they would live happily ever after. I stood there transfixed, sure that destiny had brought me into the toy store so that I, too, could make all of my dreams come true. I had to have that castle.

My poor mother didn’t have a chance. I begged, I pleaded, I used every persuasive power that a seven year old has (which, in my case, was a considerable amount), and finally, she gave in. I walked out of the store with Betsy-Wetsy under one arm, and my Enchanted Castle under the other.

The car ride home was a blur. All I remember is racing up to my bedroom with my treasures, carefully taking them out of the paper bag, and placing them on my bed. I held Betsy in my arms for a minute before laying her down off to the side. After all, Betsy was just a doll, but in that box was an Enchanted Castle, and even at seven, I knew to choose magic over real life any day. Besides, I knew Betsy would understand. I carefully unwrapped the plastic covering from the large box, and opened the cardboard flaps. Slowly, with trembling hands, I reached into the depths of the box to lift my castle out of the darkness.