You were one of my earliest friends. Your shiny fluorescent lights. The faint smell of plastic and gumballs. I remember the thrill I felt with the automatic doors slid open and I crossed your threshold. You were my bestest, most favoritest, most wonderfulest friend.
When I got money for Christmas, I gave it all to you.
You were my children’s friend, too. That’s why my daughter cried for 20 minutes when we passed your going-out-of-business sign and I told her the awful truth. Great big crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks. “Where am I going to buy Shopkins?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Target?”
“It’s not the same thing,” she wailed.
No, it’s not. There was something special about having a store devoted entirely to children. You weren’t an afterthought, or a set amount of square footage squeezed into a club store — you were a dedicated space for the whims of childhood. Superheroes and princesses welcome.
My childhood favorites — Monopoly, Clue, My Little Pony and the Easy Bake Oven — lined your shelves for generations. Maybe that was a problem, I don’t know. I’m not a marketing genius. But I remember wondering “How many copies of Monopoly can one family buy?” The games that define today’s generation are found in Google Play and the App Store, not on shelves.
These last few years you’ve reminded me of the only kid on the bus without a cellphone.
My daughter weeps for you, but I am more reflective. The truth is, our friendship has changed over the years. We’ve drifted apart. I still got your letters at Christmas and I cyber-stalked you online, but the last time I visited you it was awkward.
I wanted to buy a birthday gift for a 10-year-old boy in the $15 dollar range, and you and I had dramatically different ideas about what that present should look like. In the end, I bumped up my budget to $25 to buy an acceptable-sized box of Legos. As I left, the paper receipt fluttering in my hand, I asked myself “What do 10-year-old boys want that costs $15?” It was the type of deep, philosophical question that seemed impossible to answer. I understood how you struggled with that question, too.
But let’s not dwell on the bad times. True friends take the good with the bad.
Is it time for funny stories yet? OK, when my kids were 1 and 5 they had so many relatives give them your gift cards that I pooled the money together and bought an indoor bouncy house. For our living room! Can you imagine? On rainy days I’d push all of the furniture out of the way, plug in the blower and let the kids burn up energy. It was glorious. You would have loved it, dear friend, all of that laughter and merriment.
Thank you for the happy memories. Kids of all ages are gonna miss you.
Jennifer Bardsley is author of the books “Genesis Girl” and “Damaged Goods.” Find her online on Instagram @the_ya_gal, on Twitter @jennbardsley or on Facebook as The YA Gal.
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