The Enchanted Jester

Once upon a time, in a cozy little house filled with love and laughter, there lived a sweet little girl named Courtney. Courtney's mother and father, Mr., and Mrs. Brennan, were kind and loving parents who always smiled and often joined in our games, pretending to be a part of our little circus party. 

I was usually a stand in on family game night when Courtney’s silly big sister was too cool to play Scattergories with us and would go over one of her girlfriend’s houses for a sleepover.  Either that, or her sister thought I’d beat her, and she’d be too ashamed to walk around the house among the Scattergories champion.  That was one of Courtney’s favorite board games.  She loved to write and come up with words that start with C like her name.  Anyway, we were a happy family, and life couldn't have been more perfect.  

I had the privilege of being Courtney’s dearest friend since she was just a teeny tiny tot. From the very first moment she laid her eyes on me, we formed an unbreakable bond. Together, we laughed, we played, and we shared countless adventures.

I taught her how to fasten and unfasten a button when she was learning how to put her overalls on and off.  I showed her how hard you have to push down to snap her buttons or her hair clips.  She hated those darn hair clips, but her mom wanted to make sure her hair didn’t fall in her face.  We learned how to tie shoes together.  That was stressful, but we made each other laugh.  I think my best moments were just being there, telling her not to be afraid of anything.  Those were the days.  I miss those days dearly.

But as time passed, life had its way of bringing changes. As Courtney grew older, I found myself ‘sitting on the shelf’ more often, while she ventured into the world of friendships and hobbies. Nevertheless, I cherished every moment we spent together, and I knew she did too, for she would never let go of me completely.  I was her best buddy!  We went literally everywhere together.  The pool, the beach, the park, friends’ houses, movie theatres, mini golf—you name it, we’ve probably done it.

One fateful day, a dark cloud descended upon Courtney’s household. Mr. Brennan fell seriously ill, and despite the best efforts of the doctors, he eventually passed away. Courtney’s world was shattered, and grief enveloped her like a thick fog. I watched her from a distance, my soft heart aching for the sorrow she was enduring.

The house felt emptier than ever as Courtney returned to her father’s home after his funeral services.  As she wandered through each room, memories flooded her mind.  Then she saw me and as she hugged me, tears streamed down her face, but a faint smile appeared too.  Memories of our happy times together began to emerge, and she clung to me tightly.

“Hello,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of sadness and joy. “You were always there for me when I needed you.”

In that moment, something magical happened. It was as if the bond we once shared was reignited, and I could feel her emotions flowing through me. I knew I had to be strong for her, just like she needed me to be when we played together when she was a kid.

Over the following days, Courtney and I spent hours reminiscing about the past. She told me stories about her dad, the adventures they had, and the love they shared. I listened intently, offering silent comfort, and understanding. She cleaned and organized the house, but at the same time, she cleaned and mended her heart too.

I was there that time when Courtney fell off her bike for the first time.  Her dad let go of the back of the bike, and she was doing good, and then that darn stone came out of nowhere, and off she flew.  It felt like she cried forever that night, but her dad fixed her up with a Band-Aid and we watched Rainbow Brite and all was right with the world.  

Or the time when I was almost lost at the park.  We played on the swings and the tire pyramid, and she left me in one of the tires all the way at the top because I was the pharaoh and she was Cleopatra, queen of the Nile.  So, her mom had to come back and search the whole park.  I didn’t leave her sight for weeks after that.

I think my favorite memories were watching Saturday morning cartoons together and eating Cheerios.  Cheerios and Oreos were staples in Courtney’s life.  She was never really a tea party type of girl, but we certainly had Cheerios picnics regularly.

Oh, what about the time, we went to the beach and Courtney was eating cheeseballs and feeding them to me and the seagulls.  Her mom was not too thrilled about that, but her dad told her to throw them closer to the ocean if she was going to feed them to those obnoxious birds.  Eventually Courtney’s mom stopped letting her bring snacks to the beach.

I’ll never forgot the Christmas where she got the Totally Hair Barbie, and she was so excited because the Barbie had hair like hers.  Long and blonde and pretty, and for a whole week, I barely talked to her and all I kept hearing about was how pretty Barbie was, and how cool she is.  I think I’m still trying to block out that Christmas because I definitely felt like I was losing her.

Courtney reminded me about the time she went to girl scout camp, and I felt extra excited because it was my first bonfire, and we ate smores!  I completely forgot about that one, although, I’m not sure how I forgot because I helped her sell all her girl scout cookies that year so she could go on that trip.  I was also there every time she got scared of the fireworks every 4^th of July.  She loved the lights, but the booms were terrifying.  But I won’t tell anyone that she was probably scared of them until she was almost a teenager.  That’ll stay just between us.  

As the days turned into weeks, Courtney’s tears gradually turned into smiles. She found solace in the memories we created together, and I was grateful to be a part of her healing process. Together, we celebrated her father's life, cherishing the happy moments they had shared.

With time, Courtney decided to honor her father's memory in a special way. She started volunteering at a local children's hospital, bringing joy and laughter to the young patients, just like her dad had brought joy to her life. I happily joined her on these visits, and together, we spread smiles to those who needed them most.  She brought all the toys from her childhood that she found in the attic, and I was so happy to see Totally Hair Barbie go to a new little girl.

Though Courtney’s father was no longer with us, his spirit lived on through her acts of kindness and the joy she shared with others. As for me, I was no longer just a plush clown doll; I became a symbol of strength, love, and the precious memories we hold close to our hearts.

And so, dear reader, this is the tale of how a little girl's plush clown doll helped her find the strength to overcome grief and carry her father's love with her always. Our bond remains unbreakable, and I'll forever be grateful for the gift of being Courtney’s companion and confidant.