A story of two toys.

Photo by Marina Shatskih on Unsplash

The things we leave and the things we bring with us tell their own stories.

When we were emigrating, my parents told me to bring only one toy. I had a box full of toys, mostly different toy guns. We gave all my toys away, except for the one I decided to bring with me — a blond, blue-eyed doll named Erica.

I didn’t choose Erica because I had a great deal of love for it. Dolls, generally, creep me out…