It was there in the closet, next to the keepsake box.
I drew this with oil pastels when I was about 10 years old. You can still see the tape marks along the top where I must have stuck it somewhere.
There is an innocence to this artwork that brings me to tears.
Those happy, wide-eyed Raggedy Ann & Andy faces radiate unimaginable joy.
Yet, when I drew this I was in an impossible situation at home, horribly abused by one parent who was enabled by the other. In looking back, I’m not sure how I survived. I guess being a stubborn New Yorker had its blessings, even as a child!
Perhaps I drew what I had never known, but on some level was desperately seeking.
I have made peace with my past. However, looking at this picture touches a part of my soul that still seems to be lost, looking for my home…and for Mommy.
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