Notes About The Poem
More Than a Soft Toy Contest
More Than A Soft Toy
She was just five years old so her current hurt weighed more than her body.
Words spoken by her mama hadn’t ever hurt before, they’d always been gentle and encouraging, but today it was her mama's words that turned her guileless emotions sad. The little girl didn't know what to do. All she really understood was that her small pillow was gone, and she felt both sad and ashamed.
She'd noticed her mama's serious face as soon as she'd walked in the door after school. There was no hello, but a 'come here', followed by words that soon altered into hurtful sounds. Each second her mama talked, she felt the hurt become heavier. She comprehended little while feeling a great deal and did her best to appear attentive.
"I threw…won’t find…worn out…too old…tired...waiting ...you to…throw...yourself”
A pause came, a possible chance to escape, so numbly she walked towards her room, slowly in case it was the wrong thing to do. Once she was safely inside her room, she closed the door.
When she sat on her bed, all of her mama's words added up, then piled up, before striking her with a feeling she could not name. The child sensed that God was not mad at her, but she believed she was a disappointment, and the thought caused her small chest to clench.
She thought she'd failed her parents, her pillow and herself. Desperately wanting her 'pee-a', she began crying and sobbed, "My pee-as'...ga..gone....foor...ev..er." When her tears stilled, she somberly whispered to her room, "Gone, the pee-a I had because Mama put it in my baby crib, and she's thrown it out."
Putting her bed pillow on her lap, she thought about all her mama had said. She asked God to explain how the world could change so much while a kid was at school. Not hearing an answer, she asked Him how parents could be disappointed and tired of waiting for their child to throw something out they had never told the child had to be thrown away someday. She was so focused on listening for His answer, she didn’t realize she was rubbing the fingernails on her right hand back and forth against the soft, cold, bed pillow on her lap.
Two decades later, in her marriage bed, her husband
laughed upon waking. Gently nudging her awake, he
shared she’d done it again, spent most of the
night rubbing his pillow, right by his head, and
loudly sucking her tongue.
She asked him to not tell her parents.
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