I feel like my babbling fingertips have no destination in mind tonight, no focus, no goal – you have been warned. All I know is I want to be a part of my great grandmother’s miniature world. She made these perfect little worlds out of any supplies she could find. The first work of hers that I saw was a winter wonderland village that she created and gave to my grandmother. A lot of cardboard, paint, wood and imagination went into her creation. It was beautiful and every year I would study it in detail when we would visit for Christmas.
In later years she made two different rooms and did use a few store-bought doll house supplies but in her eighties this was still incredible detailed delicate work she did to create the scenes. I always admired her talents and inspiration. She could see so many possibilities in what people though of as insignificant scraps. Her worlds were perfect in my mind.
If I could just be a part of that living room where the woman was sitting in a rocking chair as happy as could be with her magazine pictures on the wall and knitting supplies in a bowl next to her… wouldn’t I be happy then. Everything decorated just right and kept tidy. The woman’s face forever with a smile.
My last smile seems days away. Not enough sleep (nothing out of the ordinary there) and too many problems. Bills keep rolling in but there is no money when you can’t work. I have been flaring with my fibromyalgia and hurt a lot. In that miniature world there is no sickness and pain… maybe only a little dust to disturb the perfect scene. I know life is not meant to be perfect but, just for a short time at least, can it be as beautiful as a miniature doll house room? Pretty please?