From Chicken Soup for the Soul Daily Inspirations for Women

November 23

A few months before my wedding, I spent weeknights rooting through the boxes we’d moved from the old farmhouse, deciding what was my sister’s and what I should move to our new apartment. Twenty-three years of nostalgia awaited me each evening. At the bottom of one box, I discovered a homely brown clay bowl that only a child could have fashioned and only a mother could have loved. I couldn’t remember making the bowl, so I assumed it was Sharon’s. She denied ever seeing it, so I slipped it under her pillow.

The next morning I found it in my purse. That night, I put it in her high-school backpack. We spent the next two weeks trying to outwit each other.

A few days before the wedding, my sister approached me, towing a child’s doll—about two feet high with straw-yellow hair. “Here, Gail, this is yours,” she said simply. I had never seen it before, so I told her she could keep it.

On our wedding night, my husband’s face turned to utter horror when I opened my suitcase. There was the yellow-haired doll atop all the clothing. My little sister really got me good.

Gail E. Strock

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