The bold and the beautiful

I met you when I was only five years old. My mother tried to introduce me to a neighbor of yours, but you caught my attention and I immediately decided I had to have you. Your style, your flair, your unique personality ... I was entranced. Mom wasn't thrilled, but she told me from the beginning it was my choice and she stayed true to that word.

The rest was history. We were inseparable. School, church, weekends ... you name it. It was you and me together. We danced, we took a bow and we flaunted what people normally wouldn't. And this was no fling. Years passed and you were still faithfully by my side. Through skinned knees-a-plenty and long division, you saw me grow. And that's where the story gets sad.

I was growing older ... still very much in love with you ... and we were forced to part ways. I don't remember the exact day and its events, but I'm certain there were sniffles and tears.

I'm 24 now and here I am still thinking about you. You stood for what I was and what I hope I am still to this day: bold, full of life and tad on the obnoxious side, but in the most endearing way possible (hopefully.) So I want you to know, wherever you are, that I'm thinking of you, and I think of you often. You know how everyone has that handful of childhood stories that consistently are told to friends, coworkers and girlfriends/boyfriends along the way? In my handful, our story is top three ... easily.

So thank you pink-purple-and-green-ruffled-dress-with-bells-under-one-ruffle and-matching-ruffled-undies-socks-and-hair-clip. I picked you on my 5th birthday and you'll forever be an icon of the child I once was and the child that will forever live inside me.