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LAMBI

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I am here, as I always have been. I once was the ears to the girl’s worries, the actor to her plays. She had picked me out from among others exactly like me, and had found me to be her favorite. Ever since then, I have been a part of her world.
She had many friends for she got along with others easily. No one could hate her dimpled smile. No one could dislike her strong spirit. She was stubborn. I saw that right away. Often she would get in trouble, sent to her room with only me as her company. Her hazel eyes were wild with the frustration of not getting her way. In moments like that she sat on her bed, holding me. The soft fabric of my skin comforted her, my silence soothed her. And, even though I did not possess the ability to form words, she would talk to me softly so that no one could hear. She always told me what had just happened, adding her own twist. She would create a story where she was always the victim, her parents always the prosecutors. And when she had finished talking, she would curl up under the covers, wrapping her arms around me as she faded off to sleep.
As time went on, the stories got shorter and the child got older. I was there for her when her cat died, when she cried all that night. I remained silent, only able to comfort her with my presence. But even with all of the kindness I gave, her interest in me continued to fade. Her eyes stopped looking for me when she was upset, her hands searching for my form even as she fell asleep beside me. Now when she kicks me off of the bed, she doesn’t notice for at least a week.
She has changed greatly as the years pass, putting more attention to her appearance when she first went to high school. She would spend an hour each morning smoothing out her blonde hair with a straightener and picking out her clothes with great care. Occasionally she would notice me lying there, and hurriedly move me to her unmade bed before rushing out to school. Though she neglected me, I don’t mind. Each time a boy dumped her, I was there to keep her company when she cried, and I easily forgave her for forgetting me. If she needs me, she knows where I am.
When she graduates and moves out, will she take me along? I doubt it. But even so I treasure this short time with her, for I had watched her grow up and change before my eyes. And maybe, if she wishes, I will be there for her children. I will be the one they go crying to, their favorite playmate and toy, Lambi.



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