I’ve lived in this house my entire life. There are so many memories here.
I was born in this house. I grew up in this house, the youngest of ten children. I lost one brother in this house. I had my first kiss, and my first time in this house. I lost teeth, and made and lost friends. I studied for tests and painted walls. I watched my siblings leave. I cared for my parents until they passed. I took over the care and maintenance of this giant, beautiful house. This is my house.
Once Mamma and Pappa passed away in my late teens, I was alone. They left me with their house, and their passions. Pappa loved marionette puppets, and Mamma loved sewing, so they complimented each other very well.
Pappa would build the wooden dolls, and Mamma would create their little clothes. They were the finest marionettes in the entire county. People came from miles around to watch when Pappa put on a show, and even further for the chance to purchase one of his handmade creations.
And Mamma’s dresses…oh, they were exquisite. The clothes for the dolls got her attention, but her ballgowns spoke for themselves once people saw her. We had politicians and debutants knocking at our door to have Mamma make them a dress. They nearly threw their money at her to have her agree to make them a one-of-a-kind gown.
I loved what they loved, but I didn’t get Pappa’s wood-working skills. I did inherit Mamma’s talents, though. And what she started fell to me, and the money people threw was now being thrown at me. It was how I paid for food and kept the lights on.
I had to make adjustments in my marionetting. I sold all but my favorites of Pappa’s dolls. I wanted my parents to have funerals worthy of their legacy, so I did what I had to do. They had the finest coffins money could buy, and they were buried in a safe cemetery, where they wouldn’t get flooded out. It was worth it.
But I had to get new dolls. I had to fill the roles that I had in my head for the untold puppet stories that Pappa had written. Without being able to make them, I went out and found them. The first few didn’t quite work out, and I’d had to throw them away to the gators. I had to keep trying to make my marionettes perfect.
They were larger than Pappa’s, so I had to work out the pulley system to hold them up.
And I did.
I had to figure out hair and makeup all on my own.
And I did.
I had to come up with a way to dislocate bones and have them heal in just the right way so that they could be controlled by my pulley system.
And I did.
It took me years, but I finally got my puppets perfect. And I am able to relive some of my most favorite memories out back in the puppet theater. They look exactly as Pappa had written them. I made the clothes exactly as Mamma had designed. Now if only they would stop squirming on their wires and learn their lines.
