Clara's Story: Continued (1970s Ballerina Barbie)

The most wonderful thing happened! I should've posted about it here long ago, but I've been so preoccupied I must've forgotten. However it does feel somewhat right that this story is being posted so close to the holidays, since the holiday season is supposed to be a time for miracles.

I was on the first floor when it happened. Another doll named Megan T. was having one of her spur-of-the-moment dance parties. I've always loved to dance. This might have something to do with me being a Ballerina Barbie, or it might not. All I know is, no matter how I'm feeling or what is going on in my life, when I dance I feel...free, free from my worries, free from anything that might be weighing me down.

Treesa was upstairs in her room at the time, sorting through some storage boxes. Suddenly we all heard Treesa's bedroom door being yanked open. This was followed by what sounded to us dolls like a herd of stampeding elephants, as Treesa's feet came pounding down the stairs. We all stopped what we were doing, the CD player still running in the background. Just then Treesa poked her head into the room. "Has anyone seen Clara?" she asked.

I slowly came forward. "Is something wrong?" I asked Treesa nervously. Treesa shook her head. "No, I just need to talk to you," she said. Treesa has never been very good at hiding her emotions, and right then she was practically bouncing with excitement. Looking back now I guess I should've realized why Treesa seemed so happy, since she'd specifically asked to see me. But I didn't suspect for a minute what was about to happen. I guess in my mind the possibility seemed so unlikely that my head just skipped over it, even though there was still hope in my heart.

Treesa bent down closer to my level and said, "I think we should go somewhere a little more private to talk." Before I realized what was happening Treesa scooped me up and whisked me off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. I felt a little disoriented from being moved so quickly. The next thing I knew Treesa was lifting me so that our faces were level. Treesa was grinning, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I found her! I found Marie!" Treesa said.

Her voice was hushed, probably to stop any other dolls from eavesdropping, and for a minute I wondered if I'd misheard what she'd said. "You found my sister?" I asked. Treesa nodded, still smiling. "The reason I couldn't find her in the basement is because she wasn't IN the basement. I must've brought her upstairs and then forgot," Treesa said.

My head was spinning. It'd been so long since I'd seen my twin sister. I wondered if she'd changed after so much time. I wondered if I'd changed. Would we be able to pick up where we'd left off? What if we'd both changed so much that we didn't recognize each other anymore? I'd always thought I'd be happy to see my sister again. Now that I finally had the chance I was suddenly feeling nervous. "Where is she?" I asked Treesa in a shaky voice.

"I left her on my bed," Treesa said. "I thought you two would want some privacy after being apart for so long. I'll take you to her." Before I could even think what to say or do next Treesa had opened the bathroom door and was carrying me to her room. In no time at all she was gently setting me down on the bed. "I'll leave you two alone," Treesa said. "You've probably got a lot to catch up on. Oh, and could you explain to Marie how things work around here, Clara?"

I didn't understand what Treesa meant at first. Then I realized that Treesa was asking me to let Marie know that Treesa knew we were alive. I also realized that Marie probably hadn't said anything to Treesa yet. She wouldn't have, if she didn't know that Treesa knew. Even after us dolls find out about Treesa it usually takes us a while to trust her enough to actually respond to her.

A whole new worry suddenly sprouted in my mind. What if Marie had been damaged while she was in storage and Treesa hadn't noticed? What if my sister was hurt? Or worse, what if she wasn't alive anymore? I was still wrestling with this terrible thought when Treesa walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

After Treesa left the doll that was sitting next to me on the bed slowly turned her head to look at me. She seemed to be studying me carefully, and I found myself studying her just as hard. Her facial features, the shape of her hands, mirrored my own. Everything about her was so comfortingly familiar. But was this doll really my sister? I knew a lot of dolls that looked like us must've been manufactured. Even though I'd been interacting with Treesa long enough to know that she wouldn't deliberately substitute another doll in my sister's place, hoping I wouldn't notice, there was still a slight possibility that Treesa had bought a third Ballerina Barbie and had forgotten. Treesa didn't always have the best memory, and after all this time the possibility that I'd finally found my sister seemed too wonderful to be true. There was only one way to know for sure. "Demi?" I asked quietly.

A warm, joyful smile spread across the other doll's face. "Plie," she said in reply. Demi plie, along with being a common beginner's ballet term, was also a game my sister and I had invented at our old home. The game was similar to both Marco Polo and Hide And Seek. One of us would repeat the word demi while moving from room to room until the other heard and answered plie. The point of the game was to try to find our way back to each other.

I was overwhelmed with relief and joy. It really was Marie, my sister, my twin. I hugged her then, clinging to her like I was afraid to let go. "It's so good to see you," she whispered, her voice chocked with emotion. We stayed that way for a long time, just trying to take it all in. Then we talked for what felt like hours. I told her all about Treesa and my new doll friends, and what had happened to me in the time we were separated. I even explained to her the meaning behind the new names Treesa had given us. Marie then shared with me a little about her time in storage. I could tell that this was difficult for her to talk about, so I didn't pressure her for too many details. She knew though that I would always be there to listen if she needed me, and she shared more with me over the coming weeks.

It took time for Marie to adjust to being surrounded by so many other dolls, so I introduced her to my new friends slowly, a few at a time. Even though she seemed disappointed that she'd missed so much Marie also seemed glad that I'd made other friends while she was gone. I still can't explain how wonderful it feels to wake up every morning knowing that my twin sister is there to share my day with me. We've become almost inseparable since we found each other again. In fact I was a little worried that I might've been neglecting my other doll friends by spending so much time with my sister. But I think my friends understand. They've all been very welcoming to Marie, and they don't seem to mind including her in whatever we might be doing.

Ever since Thanksgiving I keep thinking about all the things I have to be grateful for. I never want to forget how I felt when I was separated from my sister, because I never want to start taking for granted all the blessings in my life. When Marie and I first came to live with Treesa it felt like we would always be together, because we always had been together. I know now that we can never really know how much time we have with those we love. So this holiday season why don't we all try to make the most of the time we have.

Clara and Marie

I Hope You Dance, Clara

Clara's Story (1970s Ballerina Barbie)

Hope is a powerful thing. When we're struggling or facing a crisis, hope can keep us going. It's kept me going a long time, even though I know that the more time that passes, the more the odds are stacked against me. Some people might think I need to 'face reality' and 'accept' what's happened. Maybe they're right. But I know if I ever lost all hope, I'd be broken inside. So I won't give up hope, hope that someday, I'll see my twin sister again.

My twin sister and I used to belong to two little girls. They were sisters too. They often played with us together, so my sister and I were very close. But those two little girls grew up, and we were put in storage. Then we were donated to a thrift store.

I was happy when my twin sister and I were sealed in the same bag at the store. It meant we would get to stay together, that whoever bought us would get us both. My sister and I talked a lot after the store closed for the night, wondering what our new owner would be like. The next day Treesa came to the store.

Treesa bought us, and brought us home with her. But we didn't seem to hold her interest for very long, and we quickly ended up in storage in the basement. Every now and then Treesa would come down and sort through the boxes. Sometimes dolls were brought upstairs. Sometimes other dolls were brought downstairs and packed away. In all this confusion, my sister and I were separated.

Even though neither of us liked being in storage, it was easier to stay positive when we were together. We would keep each other occupied by talking about the old days, remembering all the fun we'd had together at our first home. I felt lonely without my twin sister, and the more time that passed the more I missed her. There were still other dolls in storage with me for me to talk to, but it wasn't the same as talking with my sister. Because we went through so much together, and because we're twins, I've always felt that my sister knew me better than anyone else ever could.

The next time I saw Treesa, I could tell that she'd changed somehow. She was very quiet as she looked through the box I was in. Normally she would've been singing quietly to herself, or at least humming. And when she picked me up out of the box her hands seemed more gentle, as if she was afraid of hurting me. Not that Treesa was ever rough with her dolls, but I could still feel a difference in the way she held me.

Treesa decided to bring me upstairs that day. My face must've been a little smudged from being in storage, because Treesa cleaned it with a damp towel. Then she found something for me to wear.

 The dress is a replica.

After I was dressed, Treesa did something that seemed strange at the time. She looked right into my eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

I didn't understand then why she was apologizing, or why she was even speaking to me at all. But I could hear real emotion in her voice. She sounded ashamed, and there was a look of guilt in her eyes. After Treesa went to bed that night the other dolls in her room cleared up part of the mystery, telling me that Treesa knew we were alive.

The next day I saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears, some of the other dolls talking to Treesa. Treesa spoke to me a little, telling me that she'd decided to name me Clara, after the character from the Nutcracker ballet. But I didn't answer her then. This was all still too new to me, both being out of storage and having a human trying to talk with me. But Treesa didn't seem offended, or even surprised, when I didn't answer.

It was a few days before I felt comfortable enough to try talking to Treesa, and I think I might've waited even longer if it weren't for my sister. I still missed her, but more than that I wanted to share all of this with her. I was hoping I could convince Treesa to bring my twin up from the basement. So, after I explained the situation, I asked Treesa if she knew where my twin sister was.

As I was talking, I noticed Treesa's expression changing. At first she just seemed nervous and worried. But after Treesa heard my question I saw the same look of guilt on her face that I'd seen when she'd first brought me upstairs. Treesa then admitted that she didn't know what had happened to my sister. Treesa had realized, without being told, that the doll I'd been bagged with was probably important to me, and she'd been searching the basement for my twin. But Treesa hadn't been able to find her. Then Treesa told me that my twin sister might have ended up in a box of dolls that Treesa's sister had sold at a yard sale.

I felt as if my world had turned upside down. My sister, my twin, was gone, maybe for good. My mind just couldn't make sense of it. How could this happen? How could we have managed to stay together all those years, even ending up in the same bag at the thrift store, only to be separated now?

"I'm sorry," Treesa said again, and I could tell she really meant it. But I couldn't say anything. The news was still too fresh.

"I was going to name her Marie," Treesa said quietly.

"Marie?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.

"Some versions of The Nutcracker use the name Marie instead of Clara," Treesa said. "I thought, because you're both Ballerina Barbies..." Treesa trailed off then, as if she wasn't sure what else to say. I'll admit, I wasn't sure what to say either. It was obvious that Treesa felt badly about what had happened. The fact that she'd picked out a name for my sister told me that she'd been determined to try and make things right. Even though she hadn't succeeded, I was still touched by her effort.

"She'd like that," I said finally. I saw Treesa's shoulders relax a little, but it seemed from the look on her face that there was still something bothering her. I didn't have to wait long to find out what it was.

"I'm so sorry Clara," Treesa said. "I'm sorry I didn't take better care of you and Marie. I'm sorry I put you both in storage. I should've given you more of a chance. Before I bought you and Marie I wanted a Ballerina Barbie for my collection so badly. I don't remember why. I'd never even seen one in real life. I'd just seen pictures. When I found you and Marie at the thrift store I was so excited. But after I got you two home...I didn't know what to do with you. I should've been over the moon about finally having one of my grail dolls. And I was when I first found you. I don't know why the feeling wore off so fast. And I didn't know you were alive when I put you both in storage. I can't even imagine what you must've gone through. When I found you in the box downstairs, I felt so bad. I brought you upstairs so I could try and make it up to you." Treesa stared at the floor as she talked, unable to face me, or even look me in the eye.

I can't really explain how I felt after hearing Treesa's confession. I now knew how much Treesa had wanted me and my sister in the beginning, that we weren't just an impulse buy. I also knew that we'd somehow failed to live up to Treesa's expectations. It was obvious that Treesa blamed herself completely for Marie and I ending up in storage. But I still found myself wondering if there was something I could've done to make a better first impression on Treesa, some way I could've saved my sister from having to go into storage.

After a moment's silence, Treesa looked up at me. "I'll keep looking for Marie," Treesa promised. "If she's still here, I'll find her. There's still some places I haven't checked yet."

Treesa's tone was so earnest that I knew she wouldn't give up until there really was nowhere else to look. "Thank you Treesa," I said. I'll admit, knowing that Treesa hadn't completely given up hope of finding my sister gave me back some hope of my own. That hope is still inside me, not a bright flaming hope, but more like a glowing ember. It keeps me going, keeps my world steady when I feel alone and overwhelmed.

I have made friends with some of Treesa's other dolls. My sister, Marie, wouldn't want me to be lonely just because she's not here. But I still miss my twin. The thought that she could've left the house without even a chance to say goodbye makes me want to cry. But I keep going, because I wouldn't want to let her down by giving up.

I don't talk about Marie much with the other dolls, and they try not to bring her up because they know it makes me sad. Even though my life still feels incomplete without my sister, I try not to spend all my time moping or dwelling on the past. Marie wouldn't want me to. She'd want me to smile, to laugh, to dance just because I can. She'd want me to have plenty of stories to share if...when I see her again. So for her I try to do more than just exist. I try to live, to soak in all the small joys that come my way. And I still hope that someday, we'll find each other again.

I Hope You Dance, Clara