Hello old friend,
I'm not sure whether there's a microscopical place in your memory that belongs to your old friend, but for the sake of old days I really hope you remember me.
Maybe you are surprised by my sudden letter, but I have been piling words for years now and decided to share them with you. You have grown so much. Long gone little, chubby tomboy that always had a hand for me and instead there's a young lady.
Recently, I have been thinking about the first time we met. Do you remember? I do, that memory never leaves me.
Before you I was only a piece of plastic stocked in beat-up store, forgotten among all those beautiful Barbies and fast cars. There was so many kids your age that stood before me, and extending their small hands the brushed part me and reached for those toys.
Not you.
From the first time that irritating bell announced your entrance and the moment you peaked behind your grandfather at me I knew my time has come. And in the way your eyes twinkled and lips smiled I was certain I have gained a friend, and you didn't disappoint.
All the stories you told me are still hidden inside of me like secrets only two of us shared. Your grandfather always wanted a grandson, and together we have granted him that wish. We mimicked him as he throbbed into the wooden boards and my head still hurts from all our adventures.
And that day, when all the kids from neighborhood laughed at you and teased you because instead of a doll you had plastic hammer in your hand, you were brave. You squeezed me and told them we were friends.
That was the best day of my existence.
Somewhere between the birth of your younger brother and your beginning of high school we grew apart. Your grandfather got the boy he yearned for, your priorities changed and you didn't need me to fight the world anymore. Toys that reigned over your hands were more expensive, more functional and you changed. My love for you never did.
The real reason I'm writing you this letter is to explain to you how that day, when you went to study in that far away country whose name I forgot, I waited for you to say goodbye. I hoped that you will come see me in the basement and that maybe - just maybe, for the sake of old days - we would have our last adventure together.
But you never did.
Someday, when you're older and have your own kids would you please tell them about us, our adventures? Tell them not to throw their own toys around and disregard them because maybe for humans we are insignificant and easily replaced, but for us toys - you are our dearest friends.
Goodbye, old friend and if you ever want to meet me again you know where to find me. I will be forever waiting for your in that dark, lonely place in the basement whose name is rumored to be the graveyard of toys.
ns 15.158.61.17da2
