Barbie Days...

I spent the other evening talking with an old friend. I've known her since I was 5. We met when she lived across the street from me. She had a friend who was much larger than either of us and wasn't very friendly. Our very first conversation went like this;

Mean girl {shouting to me}: "I have a Ding Dong and you don't have one!"

Me {shouting back}: "So what!"

Mean girl {holding Ding Dong up and teasing me}: "I have a Ding Dong and you don't have one!"

Me {picking up a dirt clod}: "Yeah? So what! I have a dirt clod."

Me {throws dirt clod into the street}

Me {throws another dirt clod at them}

{dirt clod hits car}

Mean girl {shouting}: "I'm telling."

Me {runs away}

Not long after the dirt clod incident, while I was still hiding in my bedroom, my apartment doorbell rang. My mother eagerly answered the door. There, upon the doorstep, was a woman and a young girl. Not the one that I had been throwing dirt clods at. She introduced herself to my mother and proceeded to explain how I behaved earlier in the day.

The young girl looked at me, and I at her. She had longish dark brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and a big smile. I on the other hand had white-blonde hair, green eyes, and pale skin. In my hand was a Malibu Barbie. My prized possession.

The girl looked at me and said, "I have Barbies too."

My eyes lit up, "You do? I have more in my bedroom. Wanna see them?"

We went off to my bedroom to go check out the scene. And that, as they say, was that.

We spent many hours and many years playing with Barbies. We concocted outrageous stories and lives that our beloved dolls would be a part of. We dressed them in the finest couture in Barbiedom and gave them equally fascinating names.

Whether we would play at my house or hers, we made fantastic homes out of household items. Our stories were better than the ones you would find on the soap operas.

Ah, Barbie days.

I still have my Barbies. They are in a box in my basement. They were saved for when I had a little girl. I never had a little girl, so there they stay, waiting for a granddaughter that I hope to one day have.

If I could only go back to a time when a toilet paper roll could become a throne and my Barbie was the queen. When play was magical and uninterrupted. When imaginations ran wild and free. When the biggest worry was, "Where did I put that other go-go boot that matches my dress?"

My girlfriend and I grew up and bonded through Barbies. We remain best of friends to this day. Our conversations are not frequent, but when I hear her voice on the other end of the telephone line, it's like the conversation never ended. We pick up where we left off and go from there.

It's good to have a soul-mate friend. Everybody needs one. I'm just lucky that I found mine at such a young age.