Barbie Girl

The car was really only meant for two dolls at a time, but that was unimportant.

I had a collection of dolls as a child: a baby doll, a couple of knock-off American Girl dolls that were sold at Target, some Polly Pockets (do those count as dolls?), and a number of Barbies. To go with these Barbies, I had some clothes, some shoes, a house, a Ken doll, and, most importantly, a hot pink Barbie-sized convertible.

One time when my cousin came over to play, we decided that Barbie needed to go on a trip with all of her fellow Barbie friends. We placed a Barbie in the driver’s seat of the convertible and proceeded to pack the other dolls in with her. We pressed and we shoved and we crammed and we scooted. The car was really only meant for two dolls at a time, but that was unimportant. We were going to Jenga our way into fitting more Barbies in than it looked like it could hold. It would be my Barbie-branded clown car convertible.

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The Woods and What They Say

Those woods contained stories, some accurate, some inaccurate.

Growing up, I lived in a small city just on the outskirts of a slightly larger city. I didn’t have the classic idyllic childhood of a neighborhood full of kids, all outside all the time, ready to play. What I did have was a wooded park a few streets away containing boardwalks and paths to guide a traveler through the trees. That path was even connected to the local elementary school’s playground and classes took mini field trips through those woods, discussing the flora and fauna found within.

Those woods contained stories, some accurate, some inaccurate. One false tale was that there was a battle between Native American tribes atop a hill found in those woods. No evidence for such a battle exists, but the story was so pervasive in the mythos of the local community that the elementary school connected there was named after it.

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Our Love

On realistic love

Our love has never been a sweet, jazz song,
simply honest talk between those who long
to be together despite all the change
that will happen as our lives rearrange.

Our love has never been a luscious poem,
just a journey where we build a new home
from scratch with wood, a roof, and so much trust,
laughing at the floors powdered in sawdust.

Our love has never been a prized story,
but a lifetime filled with even more
elation than I thought my mind could create.
Now may two become one on this perfect date.


Photo by wendel moretti from Pexels

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