It seems odd to sell childhood memories - but sometimes it's the right thing to do

I have a very special friend who, over the years, I've liked to spoil with free hand-me-downs (and believe me, we have some of the world's best hand-me-down clothes).

Now that it's time to let go of some space-consuming American Girl items ... which I have wisely decided to sell instead of give away (OMG do they hold their value!!!), I gave my friend first dibs on the American Girl sale.

R has probably - hate to say it - thousands and thousands of dollars worth of furniture, clothing, accessories, animals and of course dolls.

I am not a hoarder, by any stretch of the imagination. But since R had eye cancer when she was 4 1/2, we received a lot of beautiful American Girl clothes and toys from doting grandmas, friends, aunts and uncles. Sometimes when they were in New York they picked up a horse or two to be carried home on the plane. Oftentimes it was my Mom sitting at her computer ordering the items to be shipped just in time for Christmas, or birthday, or ... just because she thought R had to have them.

So we do have a lot, and due to the sheer volume it is kind of cluttery in some ways. That being the case, getting rid of the stuff is a welcome notion. And R wants her room re-decorated to be more "older nature-loving science-minded wildlife photographer girl" versus "young, babyish doll-loving girl". 

A photo taken by our resident Wildlife Photographer

No, my 11-year-old doesn't play with dolls and hasn't in quite some time. When her friends come over they might dress up Chrissa in a soccer outfit or something. But Rachel just waves her arm at the extensive array of doll stuff and says "Instead of all those dolls I'd much prefer to have a chair in that corner so I can read. I'd like a desk so I can work on my blogs. I'd like the pink walls to be painted dark green, like the forest". 

So a sale of the doll clothes, furniture and accessories makes sense. After all, R is turning 12 in about 7 weeks so she is within her rights to want the room to grow up with her.

Last evening my friend Jen and I had a lovely time going over all the pretty little birthday cake sets and doll-sized karate outfits and ponies. After about 3 hours, she rushed out into the windy night carrying bags filled with Penny's horse and western saddle kit and tons of loot for her daughter's Christmas surprise. 

"Do you feel ripped off?" I asked her, with my cheeks flushed with the shame of making her pay for the purchases, even though I know I'm giving it away at a fair price. 

"Not at all", she laughed. "I feel like I just won the lottery!"

Ah, the memories of this dress.

When R and I went upstairs at 9 o'clock to get ready for bed, there were quite a few little boxes and outfits still sitting on the white duvet. Kaya's wolf-dog was out, as was the dogsled thing he pulls. A crisp once-opened box revealed a beautiful ceremonial dress for Kaya. And while Jen was here she had dressed Julie in a black and gold dress that R had once worn to a Make A Wish event at which she introduced David Suzuki as a speaker. Julie looked dazzling and brought back long-forgotten memories for me.

Before we knew it, we were ... you guessed it ... playing with the dolls. R set up the barn and fed the horses and dressed Kaya for riding. On and on it went. Just one more thing. Just one more box to open. Just one more thing to set up and try out.

"These dolls and clothes and horses truly are beautiful", R said, breathless, surveying the collection of items that was spread out before us. "I'm so glad Auntie Jen didn't take the doll sled. I want it. And I want to keep the doll who looks like me - not Michelle but the other one, the one with the long hair. And we can never sell Lanie because Nannie Raine loves her so much. We have to give that one back to Nannie Raine and never sell her," she said.

This morning when I drove R to early choir practice we talked about the dolls and she said "you know, I don't know why I didn't think I liked dolls. It's just that I'm trying to be the kind of person who doesn't get attached to objects. I want to keep my memories, not the things they are attached to."

"Devil's advocate speaking," I said, "But if things aren't important at all in helping us keep important memories, then why do we have museums filled with millions of objects?"

Her silence told me she knew I was right.

"Do you remember getting your very first American Girl Doll?" I asked her, while we were on the subject.

"I do. I remember on Christmas morning, opening the Just Like You doll we called Michelle. I remember I didn't like her. She did grow on me after that. I don't know why I didn't like her at first."

"If you can hold onto that memory,"I said, "you're always going to remember yourself just 10 days after losing your eye to cancer. That was just 10 days after that all happened."

"Hmmm," she said, wistfully. "That explains a lot."