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A Fond Farewell to Our Beloved Doll
Dear Doll,
Parting ways is never simple, and this farewell is particularly poignant. As I closed the Rubbermaid lid on your storage box, I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me. Your vibrant blue eyes will be missed, and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of loss.
I want to clarify—this separation isn’t your fault. It’s not even mine, although I often grumbled about your outfits strewn everywhere, the Dream House in disarray, and your camper taking up space in the basement. Our lives have become increasingly busy with soccer practices, piano lessons, and horseback riding (the real kind, not the plastic version). Unfortunately, we’ve even cut back on our cherished bath time, which used to be our special bonding moment.
Please don’t take this as a reflection of your appearance, which has faced criticism over the years. I know women in my life who possess flawless figures, long flowing hair, and perfectly applied makeup. They run marathons, engage in yoga, and are involved in their communities, showing strength and positivity. They remind me of you—beautiful yet multifaceted.
You were never meant to be a role model for body image; that responsibility lies with me, and I’ve embraced it. Your true purpose was to ignite the imagination of my children, and you excelled in that role. From running a veterinary clinic to hosting fashion shows, you made their playtime magical. They imagined everything from weddings to surgeries, all while having hours of fun—and you never once complained.
Your journey hasn’t been easy either. You’ve navigated a very public divorce and faced media scrutiny, enduring comparisons even at 50. Yet, you’ve maintained your poise and resilience through it all.
Regrettably, it’s time to move on. Little girls grow up, and I’ve already made the difficult decision to sell the Dream House (though at a loss), list your car, yacht, and plane on Craig’s List, and donate your friends—Skipper and the Disney Barbies—to Goodwill. I even found a new home for your jeep and scooter, where they will be cherished again.
Thank you for everything. You taught my kids that a fancy gown can pair well with cowboy boots and that every imaginative story deserves a willing participant. Even though your outfits were often over-the-top and your makeup sometimes excessive, you adapted to whatever adventure my children envisioned, from soccer player to doctor.
Though you’re headed to the attic for now, your impact will linger in our hearts. Perhaps one day, when my daughters have daughters of their own, you might return to us. I’d welcome you back, maybe even into a new eco-friendly Dream House.
You have been more than just a doll; you’ve been a gateway to creativity and imagination in our lives.
Farewell for now, dear Doll. Until we meet again.
Warm regards,
Me
P.S. I’m glad you never reconciled with Ken; he always seemed to ride on your coattails.