When I was a small child I had an imaginary friend. His name was Poker. He went with me everywhere. We had conversations, read books together, discussed large-scale items in full. It never bothered my Ma until one day I told her Poker got married. After some back and forth, I explained to her that he married a woman who had a bunch of kids and he bought himself a VW bug and all the kids were stuffed in the back seat when they went places. We were on vacation and I was somewhat forlorn about the matter because he and I would not have as much time to discuss the meanings of life, now that he was a family man and all. Normally this revelation would not have bothered Ma because she was used to my fantastical tales of Poker and our discussions and our adventures. But, later in the day Dad pulled into a rest area (we were headed to Daytona) so everyone could get a snack from the vending machine and relieve themselves in the facilities. When Ma exited the bathroom I was standing next to the vending machines, waving to a gentleman who was pulling out of a parking space. He was driving a VW bug. His wife sat in the passenger’s seat. All of their kids were piled in the back. He looked my way, and as if he knew who I was, threw up his hand to wave goodbye and pulled away…
I can remember earlier conversations with Ma about Poker (on one camping trip she asked me where he was and I told her he was not a fan of camping) but I cannot remember this exchange or what he looked like, etc.
Ma said I never mentioned Poker after that.
Interesting articles on imaginary friends:
Categories: Personal History / My Own Words