ouchies and material things

i had this teddy bear from the day i was born, my godfather, my father's brother, gave him to me at birth. i used to muse that i had him before i was born. i went everywhere with him as a child and as an adult, he was with me in every new 'home' i made, propped up on my pillow. in the excitement of moving to new york city, he was *sob* misplaced (someone stole him, i know it). i wept like my two-year-old self for an hour or more and to this day, i still can't really talk about it. i can still imagine his fur (some of it missing by now), so soft i used to bury my face in his tummy as i sucked my two fingers (no thumbs for me!). the shape of his ears, his nose, his neutral smile- not at all cheesy, but supportive. the wisdom in his eyes, the love in his heart. all the places he had 'surgery', my mom or my neighbor wielding a needle and thread, stitching his wounds.

mom and i were going through old pictures last week and there was one of me and 'mr. bear' as i called him (he never had a formal name- i never had to call for him because he was always there)- i must have been two or three (going to my first day of nursery school in fact) and mom was like 'there's your bear!' and i was like 'i can't talk about it, don't bring it up.' as i held back the tears.

she bought me a replacement bear a few years back, he sits on my bed now, but everytime i look at him, i think of what i've lost and it's silly, i know, but it still aches a bit.

(thanks mo)