So, today I set sail for Denver with a friend of mine for a day ‘o shopping. And when I say “set sail”, I kind of mean it because the wind was blowing about 50 miles per hour. Seriously, on my way to meet her at her house there were no less than 15 tumbleweeds that hurled themselves in front of my car. Clu-clunk! Ahem. But I think I’m getting off track.
I had grand plans to finally buy some fake plants and additional dinner plates from IKEA, as well as visit LUSH and get a few samples. Since we were going to Park Meadow Mall anyway, we decided to pop into the American Girl store. My friend Sarah, I should mention, was the one that broke the disturbing news to me: apparently, all of the dolls that I grew up with have been slowly DISCONTINUED. Um, excuse me? Everyone knows that Samantha, Kirsten, Molly, and Felicity were the best dolls anyway. I do not understand your logic, Mr. American Girl Doll. It made me immensely sad to learn that Molly is headed to the American Girl Archive–which sounds suspiciously like when you take a dog to a “farm”–at the end of December.
I still remember getting my Molly doll from my parents one Christmas. Tinsel was hanging off the tree (we went to my Nana and Papa’s house that year. Mom and Dad never let us have tinsel.) and I came down the basement stairs to find that “Santa Claus” left her for me. Molly and I had many jaunts. It’s because of the Molly books that I even know anything about World War II. Okay, and my history classes in school. But with Molly’s story, I felt like I understood wartime better. Stories are powerful that way…they can put you in a scenario that you never lived through but make you experience it anyway, especially when you’re a child.
The reason I asked for Molly in the first place was not because of learning about World War II. It wasn’t even because I thought she was the prettiest (sorry, Molly). It was because she came with glasses. And I’m obsessed with glasses. One time, my Mom took me for an eye exam. When asked, the doctor said that I didn’t really need glasses, but I was “borderline”. I begged for those glasses so much you would have thought they came with a free lifetime supply of ice cream. I cherished those glasses. I got ’em a little case and had a purple special cloth to keep them clean. And then? I left them under my desk when I took the SAT. Yeah, there is no getting those babies back. And my parents were surprisingly not keen to getting me another pair.
But Molly had glasses. And they fit her head up until I decided one day that it would be a good idea for me to wear them. Now, at that point not all my school learnin’ was complete, so my head was child-size. That being said, my head was still not DOLL sized. I stretched them out and they never fit quite right again. Sorry, Molly.
On another day, we were playing together, Molly and I, and something terrible happened. I’m not sure what caused the accident…or maybe I just blacked it out…but Molly’s leg snapped clean off. My parents, being kinder than I probably would have been in their place, sent Molly to the American Girl hospital. She returned to me about 4 weeks later sporting a brand new hospital bracelet and gown and was holding a “Get Well” balloon.
Molly still resides at my parent’s house, but I’d really like to give her to my child or my nieces at some point in my life. Pass on the tradition, you know. (Or sell her on eBay for a million dollars as a collector’s item.) So I’m going to see about getting those glasses replaced before my opportunity closes forever. Better late than never, right Molly??