Her eyes lit up when he walked in the door.
His face broke into a tired grin. His eyes met hers and she could see the love in them. He seemed to stand a little straighter, though he looked bone tired. Without a word, he held out the prize.
Her hand stretched out for it slowly, never knowing if she merited a gift, if it was truly meant for her. Sometimes she even wondered if oxygen was meant for her.
He stood there waiting for her hand to make contact with the doll. Silently, it transferred from his hand to hers. There was no need to speak. She knew he held her in a special place in his heart. And he filled hers, causing it to overflow.
The doll was naked, her hair a tangled mess. Someone’s discarded Barbie rescued from the trash on her father’s sanitation route. She knew that, but it mattered not. The doll was whole, and it was hers.
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