Confessions of an Imaginary Friend -Part Five

To catch up, you can read past parts of this story here


My friend woke up one morning with a sore throat and a fever. So, she lay powerless in bed, as her mom spread a damp towel across her forehead . We all waited patiently for the doctor to arrive, and finally when  did, he  examined her chest, her throat, and her ears. I anxiously stood by her bed waiting for his verdict. Of course, no  one could see me, as I was the imaginary friend. But, if they could they would have been able to see just how worried I was. My friend looked up at the bed post where I was standing and I wondered for a second if she knew I was even there. But then she smiled and I knew from her smile that she could see me.

My fears were not completely unfounded, you see before she got sick she took to ignoring me completely. I would stay for days in her room just waiting for her to say something to me. I did consider leaving, after all, we Imaginary friends know that our time in the life of any child is limited. But, of course I couldn’t leave unless she asks me to, and for some reason she wasn’t asking me to.

It was when she got sick that I found out why and although I hated to see her weak, part of me enjoyed her illness. After the doctor examined her thoroughly he assured her mother that there was nothing to worry about.   “Your daughter has a very bad flu, just keep giving her warm fluids and ensure that she has complete bed rest,” he said. After he left, my friend’s mother stayed by her side for another hour and then her mobile phone rang, so she left her ill daughter with books to read, coloring books to color, and her teddy bear to hug.


This was when our fun began. The minute her mother was out of sight, my friend looked up to me and said “Marlin, I want to get out of here.” These words were music to my ears. So, for the next four days we played just like old times. We played in Candy Land, we rode our Unicorns, we had bowls of powerful ice cream that turned us into princesses, and we even played in the Neverland which she recently read about in Peter Pan. Whenever her mother came into the room, she returned to where she was. The games would only stop when it was time for her medication, meals, or just a chit chat. On one morning, her mom’s friend came to visit her and she brought with her a tiny doctor’s set. We played doctor together that day, She pretended she was a doctor who specialized in treating teddy bears. So we gave her teddy bear a shot because he too had the flu.

Another friend of her mom’s got her a toy make up kit,  so we used it to paint our faces and get ready for the ball. She dressed me that day in a silver gown and she wore a gold one. Together, we went to the king’s palace and we each danced with a prince. Our hair grew very long, our cheeks became bright red, and our magic slippers made us hop from one magic place to the next.

Those four days , brought with them beautiful times, but then my friend started feeling better. Don’t  get me wrong, I’m glad my friend is healthy and well again. But, as she got better, she went back to her old ways. She started watching TV alone, coloring alone, and she  started to forget once again about the fairies. I went back to my ways too, I  sat in silence in her room once again waiting day after day for her to talk to me. My long hair got cut, and my gown was replaced with a pair of jeans. As sad as I was, this experience taught me something. It taught me that my friend still sees me and  it assured me that she is not ready to let  me go. not yet, anyway.. I still served a purpose. I was still her voice of strength  when she was weak.

maxresdefault (4)



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s