Mothball Doll

My grandmother and I packed up the old Chevrolet with one week’s worth of necessities, and positioned ourselves toward Aunt Roberta’s home in East Texas, which always reeked of mothballs.

Mothballs are bullies, their stench permeated the entire town, all were victims. One could smell mothballs in and on Ada’s hair, Harold’s wallet, Matah’s fake flowers, Donny’s slippers, and a million other things.

Cannot recall much from the visit, other than Cocoa …

Before heading home, Grandma purchased a doll for me at a house that served as a store, a place I have named, Mothball Antiques. I tried refusing the offer. ”It’s fine, Grandma; I have coloring books.”

I toted my gift to the car, and later entertained the thought of leaving it in the restroom at Charley’s Chicken Kitchen, which, of course, smelled better than my doll.

Shortly after arriving home, I doused the doll with Grandmother’s perfume. Bearable then, and I placed the East Texas momento on my dresser. Eventually, mothball doll earned rights to sit on my bed. I named her Cocoa.