Chapter 17 - Annelise’s Crown
The crushed birthday crown remained in Annelise’s room.
I wanted to throw it away.
She said no.
“Why?”
“It’s mine.”
Right.
One side stayed bent.
She wore it once while playing.
Then forgot.
I kept noticing.
Symbol.
Evidence.
Failure.
Children are better at letting objects become objects.
One afternoon I found it under the bed.
“Can we toss this?”
Annelise frowned.
“Why?”
“It’s broken.”
“Still crown.”
Fair.
She taped it.
Ugly.
Then wore it to breakfast.
Rachel arrived for pickup.
Looked at me.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Make face.”
I apparently was.
Annelise ate cereal wearing a crooked cardboard crown.
No trauma ritual.
No speech.
At school she later made a new one from construction paper.
Purple.
She gave the old crown to Rachel’s cat as:
“king bed.”
The cat slept on it.
I laughed so hard I had to sit down.
Objects lose power fastest when children repurpose them.
I stopped trying to curate recovery.
May you like
That became useful for what happened next.
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