From my adolescent years through well . . . we’ll just say through 7 years ago, I had quite a collection of seal and dolphin figurines (and one candle). It was a magnificent collection, various types, random sizes, all very adorable and to be envied by anyone who collected either seals or dolphins. The larger pieces were kept in a cabinet in my small “whatever†room which could have been a small sitting room, but quickly became my depository for various items I could not find space for in my bedroom, while the smaller pieces were held in boxes in the same room. Why would I store such a collection behind doors and lids instead of showing them off? Simple. I did not care to collect these things.
In my single digit years I made the mistake once of mentioning to an Aunt that I thought a seal figure was cute. From that point on, she latched onto this statement and began my collection. I can understand wanting to purchase that one seal as a sign that she was paying attention, but she took it to a whole other level.
True, I could have been obnoxious, and told her hey, I only liked that one seal, but I did not for one reason: the joy that she seemed to have when presenting me with a new item. I loved my Aunt Carol, and thus began the secret shame of being excited in front of her, and then hiding the gifts.
When she started to feel ill after having her second child the sea creatures stopped coming as often. The ultimate diagnosis of MS meant that they basically stopped coming completely as she found herself unable to get around as she used to be able.
The last gift she did manage to get me was actually not a seal, nor a dolphin. It was a light from one of the Main Street Electrical Parade floats from Disneyland. I used to go once a year with my Uncle and Aunt, and later with my cousins. Eventually my Aunt would stay home, while the four of us ran around the park. The last time my Uncle decided that he would stay with my Aunt and just gave me his ticket for one of my friends to use.
Actually, I vaguely remember telling my Aunt my version of the tale of the Haunted House while she rode in a doom buggy with me during a trip pre-kids/cousins. I cannot help but think of her when I ride it to this day, how she was so great that she let me tell my obviously false story, and listened as though everything I said was the truth.
My Aunt ultimately ended up passing away from MS in 2003. I was out of town for the job I had at the time, and had no idea what had happened until I returned. I now understand why no one wanted to tell me, as I would not have been able to work while I was away. I still remember rushing to her evening services after work, but just not being able to mentally go to her actual burial. I hope she is able to understand.
For the record? I would give anything to have any of those seal or dolphin items (even the earrings) back. Damn fire.
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