Remember when you went to daycare and they would have their daily puppet shows?
Remember that weird man with the funny hat, and a the big box full of dolls on strings, and a cute little stage set up?
Remember watching him make those dolls move with the strings and little handles with his hands, to a story he made up?
Did you ever become friends with one of those puppets? Learn their own stories but watch them play out, his?
No?
Well I did.
I watched her show everyday, I'd watch him, the puppeteer, pull her to do what he wanted, the way he wanted, how he wanted. I watched her follow along and smile and laugh, sometimes yell and cry.
She did what the puppeteer wanted when he yanked on her strings because she knew if she didn't he'd put her back in his box and pick another doll to pull on. She didn't want that. He was there to pick her up when she was down, to turn her frown to a smile, but all the while, his hands and those strings were the ones knocking her down and making her frown.
There were days where she tried cutting herself loose. Some of those days I'd hand her the scissors or offer to cut those strings, she would come really close to being set free, being her own person, but then he'd come back and she'd toss the scissors away.
I couldn't help but think, why?
Why couldn't she just cut herself loose?
Why couldn't she just let go?
Why did she let him keep the handles in his hands?
Why did she let him pull her strings the way he wanted to?
Why did she have to tell his story, what about hers?
Why?
I don't know the answers to these questions but one thing I do know and one thing I learned is that she's his favorite little puppet, he loves pulling her strings the exact way he wants.
And now...
I hate puppet shows.
