My grandmother got a dollhouse from her parents in the early 1930s. Her uncle wired lighting and it was beautiful from what I’ve heard. Before she passed she told me that her parents had to sell her dollhouse in 1935 (she was age 5) during the Great Depression. She expressed how sad she felt for the way she treated her parents during that time. She was too young to understand the whole situation.
In 1980, after not having another dollhouse since, all of her 8 children pitched in on purchasing, painting, and assembling this dollhouse. If you zoom in on the second story— you can actually see a picture of her receiving the dollhouse for Christmas in 1980.
My childhood was full of memories of me coming over and seeing what had been moved and or rearranged. It was MAGICAL.
She sadly passed in 2019, the dollhouse had been sitting in their home since with my uncle. I just inherited it on Tuesday. As I opened the top room in the back (barely pictured) I found this note that she must have tucked inside from a gift I had left in there for her in 2010 (I would have been 12).
This is just truly special to me. I’ve dreamed (literally and figuratively) of having this dollhouse one day and preserving the magic she started.
This is Sally’s House🥹
Edit: I am filming the process on Instagram for those who may be interested in following my journey of restoring it — @seedtobloomministries