Dollhouse

I remember playing with about a hundred Barbie dolls in my childhood. It was a winter day and the warm sunlight was streaming in through the transparent blinds. I was sitting on the cold tiled floor wearing my soft purple woollen sweater with pink sweatpants and little furry boots. I had this really big rectangular writing table painted with blues and whites. I had set up my dollhouse on it. There was a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a lounge, all decorated with the best most sparkliest furniture fit for a queen. I had just bought the refridgerator to complete the kitchen set and it was a shocking pink color with glittery doors and inside was a variety of juices, milkboxes and desserts. My favorite plastic dish of all time was the banana split. That and two chillies purple and red that I cooked in a little fry pan for my dolls to eat. Those were good times, simpler times when I didn’t have a care in the world. School was fun and full of activities and little friends who looked after me like I was their child. I wish I could just go back in time and play in a world full of comfort and remain in a bubble of positivity, imagination and innocence.