2nd submission, NYTimes, March 18, 2021

Tiny House/Big Love

My cousin upstairs had a magnificent Victorian doll house with beautiful rooms and wraparound porch.
The church across the street supplied my aunt with bows from discarded bouquets to make decorations.
My aunt sewed curtains, bed spreads, pillows and crocheted bedspread for the pink “ little girl’s” room.
It was magical; so different from our spare apartment downstairs.
My cousin, now a teenager, found glamour and boys. No one knew what became of the doll house.
Christmastime I asked Santa for a doll house just like hers. Under the tree was a doll house made of tin
with printed curtains, tiny kitchen, and plastic plates. A rubber tiny turkey was in the kitchen to pretend
bake. I cried. It was nothing like my cousin’s doll house. It lingered in
childhood dreams.
Visiting Cape May with my husband, miniature Victorian houses were displayed all over town. For my
birthday, my husband made me a doll house furnished for every season. Years passed; it fell into lonely
hibernation. This year for my birthday my husband and my son restored it. It became a labor of love
two generations passed down to the next.