After listening to a thirty-minute monologue from my neighbour about her daughter’s riding lessons, I had two thoughts. 1) I need a glass of wine and, 2) where are my childhood pony toys?

“Mum, can you check the roof for something?” I asked over Facetime with a drink in hand. “The little ponies. I’ve got my Barbies and the doll house animal families. A big bag of soft toys. I’ve got the movie viewer toy. But where are my little ponies? In particular, the really little ponies?” They were purple with lime green hair, blue with hyper orange. And another two with contrasting shades.

A few days later, I had her answer in a text message. “Dad checked the roof. No toys, just old lamps. Did you need a lamp? We’re taking them to the Salvos.”

I couldn’t believe my old toys were gone. I couldn’t stop thinking about them and even started dreaming of them.

I was new to high school. My mother came to my room. “Your brother’s donating this. Do you want it?” It was his old toy, a pony. I always thought it was a girl’s toy, although he insisted it wasn’t as it was blue. “Do you have anything?”

I grabbed my plastic ponies from under my bed. Most were official My Little Pony, some were knockoffs I had got from the Royal Melbourne Show. A few months before, my friends had taken the littlest ponies from my room as a joke. They crackled with laughter as they returned them the next day at school.

They went into the donation bag to be forgotten.

Until now. I woke from the dream knowing it was not a dream but a memory.

I felt a gleam of sweat build on my forehead. I had no contact with these friends now, and I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter that I gave away my ponies. I had received a hand painted pony for my 30th birthday, and had a stuffed toy (a replica, my preferred term) of a Przewalski’s horse, the last wild horse breed in the world. A horse painting hung in my office. I had more adult-appropriate horse and pony mementos. I wasn’t intending to display plastic ponies. Or would I have? If I wasn’t teased about these toys back then?

I searched names on Instagram. No luck with the first two, then tried the third. This third character had been an off/on friend. I was a creative writer, she fancied herself an artist. Last I’d seen of her she was selling drawings of Disney characters. Which isn’t legal. Bingo! Yes, she still had her maiden name and still fancied herself an artist.

Her latest exhibit. Nostalgia. Paintings of old toys. “Hold onto the things you love. These are based on my childhood collection of toys that I always treasured and couldn’t throw away. Long live nostalgia.”

I explored eBay for the littlest Little Ponies. They were promptly added to the watch list.