China Dolls

         The room with the iron bed was in the middle of the second floor. Fifteen years ago it had been Matti’s room. China dolls with dresses of every color sat on the shelves that lined the now bare walls. Their white expressionless faces looked out over a white cotton comforter and pillows trimmed with lace. A hand sewn quilt lay across the bottom of the bed and little fingers traced the stems of the wild flowers that moved over the fabric.
         The air held a tune, hummed soft and sweet, and the fragrance of a single lily drifted from a vase in the corner. It was the first blossom of spring and the little girl had plucked it from her mother’s garden before it had been seen by the others. Plump fingers gripped the metal at the foot of the bed and Matti slid down the pole to the floor.
         She plotted over to the window and looked out towards the barn. Pressing her nose tight against the glass, her large, blue eyes squinted and searched for any bright splotches that may have peaked from the earth since the morning. Shafts of bright green rose from the dirt near the fence but there were no blossoms.
         The glass felt cool against her forehead and the young girl raised her hands to the sides of her head. She placed ten little pads on the windowpane. Matti could almost feel the cold dirt in her hands, the grittiness sliding over her palms. Her eyes became wide and her body rose up on the tips of her toes- she would do it.
         She whirled away from the window and clapped her hands. Her feet left the floor while small white teeth beamed in anticipation behind plump lips. Her best yellow dress twirled and fell against her juicy legs and a fleeting thought urged her to change into play clothes. She couldn’t. She didn’t have time.
         The shiny brass doorknob was too large for her hand but she used all of her might and the egg shape fit into her fingers just right. The door flew open and a squat yellow blur ran out of the room with the iron bed and bounded down the wooden staircase.
         The girl dashed across the budding grass and dove onto her stomach in the middle of the garden. She raised her plush little arms over her head, her hands barely touching, and rolled, rolled in the dark cool dirt. She laughed and grinned with her eyes closed and she squeezed her lips tight as the soil fell over her face.
         From the second floor, the china dolls looked on through immobile eyelashes. They watched the little girl stand and twirl and then throw herself back down onto the soil over and over again. Their placid eyes were the only ones that saw a man stagger out of the wood line. They sat in their beautiful colored gowns as he stopped and then turned towards the little girl. His body swayed to an unheard rhythm. He took one step, then two, and then broke into a stumbling run as he closed the distance between himself and the garden.