Goodbye
Mrs. Davis's yard sale had begun just after sunrise. The cool fragrance of early morning gradually transformed into an oppressive summer heat and the pushy crowds had thinned, leaving behind scant piles of picked over items.
Bo Peep, standing alone on a fold-out card table with her lamp and three joined sheep, had watched everything from beneath her pink bonnet. She continued to glance up at Andy's bedroom window, hoping no one would purchase her. One small girl had pleaded with her mother to "buy the pretty lamp doll," only to be pulled away.
"You'd only break her, dear," the woman had chided.
Bo sighed, relieved.
Yard sales were those dreaded evils that Mrs. Davis insisted on having every so often, to "clear out the clutter." Why did children have to grow up? Bo wondered as she glanced down at her sheep, glad that at least they could come with her. Andy, who was in high school, had outgrown his toys a few years ago. Now he was obsessed with girls, music, and his computer.
How long had it been since he'd tossed Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and the others into his old toy box, leaving them practically forgotten? Bo swallowed to ease her tight throat and placed a hand on the head of the middle sheep. All three looked up at her with sad, round eyes. "It's just us now," she whispered, sure no human could hear her.
Bo had struggled to control her emotions when a box containing Wheezy the penguin, Mr. Spell, RC, and Etch a Sketch had been sold to a woman pushing a curly-headed toddler in a stroller. The little boy had started to fuss until the mother pulled Wheezy out of the box and placed him in the child's plump hands. He laughed with delight and squeezed Wheezy several times, causing him to joyously squeak.
"Goodbye," Bo whispered, as a mixture of warmth and sadness battled in her chest. At least Wheezy, Mr. Spell, RC, and Etch had found a new owner, one who would play with them for many years.
If only I could have stayed in Molly's room, Bo thought, her throat tightening, even if she no longer wanted me. The searing sun was nearly overhead but her bonnet shielded her glassy eyes from the glare. I was still able to visit with the others whenever the humans were away. But their numbers continued to dwindle with each yard sale. At least there was no chance that Woody would ever be sold…
Woody…
Her inner pain increased as she remembered how, only recently, they had stood together at the window, reminiscing about the fun times when Andy was young. Bo had been grateful that Andy had played with her, just as if she were a regular toy instead of merely a fragile accessory to a lamp, even if she was always cast as the helpless damsel in distress. It was at those times she almost forgot she was porcelain and that any wrong move could break her into countless shards.
Bo had to admit that she sometimes secretly envied the rambunctious cowgirl Jessie. If only she, too, had been made of plastic and cloth instead of porcelain! How she'd longed to go out on the occasional adventure and be able to roughhouse without fear of breaking. If I wasn't so delicate, she thought with sudden bitterness, I'd be up in that toy box right now with Woody, not down here!
Andy had certainly played with her more than his younger sister Molly ever did. It was only last night when Molly had flicked a glance at Bo and said to her mother in a sneering voice, "You can sell that lamp. It's for babies." Bo's eyes burned at the memory.
Perhaps I won't be sold, she thought with a faint leap of hope. Since Molly no longer wants me, maybe I could get moved to Andy's room and be closer to Woody.
Andy's dachshund Buster was waddling slowly through the yard, stopping now and then to sniff. Even he had grown older. His fat tummy nearly dragged to the ground and gray was overtaking the deep russet shade of his coat. It had been a long time since he'd played the "Find-Woody-as-fast-as-you-can" game. Instead, he preferred to sleep.
Why, why did living creatures have to age, especially children and dogs? Bo sadly wondered as a shadow fell over her. Why couldn't they remain eternally the same, like us toys?
"What a lovely lamp!" a woman's voice exclaimed. "I haven't seen one of these since I was a little girl."
Bo caught a glimpse of the speaker from beneath her bonnet. She was an elderly woman with a round pleasant face and half-moon spectacles.
"That's Little Bo Peep," said Mrs. Davis. She hurried over, her brownish-blonde hair slightly tousled and her pretty face flushed and sweaty from working all morning at the yard sale. "I got her for my daughter when she was just a baby."
The older woman smiled and ran a gentle finger along Bo's face. Bo stared ahead, locked in the frozen state that she and the others automatically went into whenever humans were around. "I collect antique lamps and dolls. She would be perfect! I'd like to buy her."
"Excellent!" said Mrs. Davis, shaking the woman's hand. "Just let me get a box and some wrapping since she is very fragile."
"We are going to have a new home, for better or worse," Bo whispered to her sheep as Mrs. Davis wandered away to get a box and the woman followed to pay. She clutched her staff and hugged her sheep hard with her free arm. The back of her throat ached and her vision blurred.
She caught sight of several forms standing on Andy's windowsill. Bo blinked and rubbed her eyes to clear them. Woody, Buzz, Jessie, Bullseye, Slinky Dog, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, Hamm, Rex, and the three funny green aliens were all looking down at her.
Pain filled her chest and her eyes misted even more but she managed to force a smile and blow a kiss. "Goodbye," she whispered, wishing she could leap off the table and dash up the drainpipe, knowing such a thing would be impossible, even if there weren't humans around. Unlike the others, she wasn't designed for such feats. "I'll miss you all. Especially you, Sheriff Woody."
She doubted any of them could hear her. Woody's head was bowed and he held his cowboy hat over his chest. His mouth shaped the words, "I love you, Bo." A single tear glistened against his ruddy cheek.