Dan

Once upon a time, I belonged.###
I had substance. I had purpose. I had...a head and string.###
You could pull me, and my head would bob back and forth as I'd glide across the house's stone floor. At least that's how it went, every day, for years.### I was a Madrigal toy - it was my birthright. I'd been given to the oldest, Byron, to quiet him upon the family's first visit to the Museum of Folk Art. Despite the odds, and amidst fierce competition from QBerts and Rubix Cubes, I persevered as a favorite. I like to think that it was my simplicity.###
I was passed from Byron to Sondra, and again from Sondra to the youngest, Edward. I was always there - dragging me, my head would nod. It was like that. It always was. Until it wasn't.###
After awhile, the spot repairs stopped holding. There were no more places for wood screws, and the glue stopped sticking. I lost my string, and then my head.###
Mother Madrigal couldn't bear to throw me away. The years crept by, and the kids grew older, and one by one they left the house for their own little lives. The remaining scraps of my wood, which she'd occasionally pause to glance at, reminded her of the impatient days of their childhood, long since past.###
In retrospect, my remaining three pieces should have been thrown or given away. However, it seemed like the least Mother Madrigal could have gotten for me was a dollar. That, and the chance to read my story. I hope she's reading.###
If she is, I want her to know this: every second meant the world to me, too.