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When we lived in Augusta, my brother had a girlfriend named Melissa. He was fourteen or fifteen at the time, which would have made me ten or eleven or so. I'm not sure if we ever met her much, but we did take him to church to meet her one Wednesday night. Anyway, it was around Christmas at the time, so he had to buy her a present. He ended up buying her one of those white furry teddy bears with the red hats and scarves, the ones that they have on sale every year in all stores? Sometimes with the year on the hat? (Although.. do they still? I haven't paid any attention lately.)
Anyway, after he bought the present, he also broke up with the girl, and so he was stuck with a teddy bear he didn't know what to do with... so he gave it to me. We were a little surprised because he was never one to throw money around, and he could have taken it back. But he didn't, and so the bear became a regular feature in my life. The bear went through a couple of traumatic moves with me, and he slept with me every night, and was somehow always there when I cried about something. I grew accustomed to having something to wrap my arms around when I slept. And the bear was always there with me. I never gave him a name--or rather, I never gave him a name that stuck. He was just The Bear.
When I grew up and became an old married lady, I relegated the bear to the shelf in the bedroom closet, but I was never happy about it. A while after we were married, the boy tucked me in at night and, feeling kind of nerdy and also a little sleepy and vulnerable, I asked for the Return of the Bear. Actually, what I asked was that he find the white bear in the closet and bug-check him for me. He was a little dusty that first night, but I was so glad to have him back that I couldn't have cared less. It was my bear! Back with me! And that is when he got the name that stuck--Earnest. (I would tell you how he got that name but it popped out of the clear blue sky.)
And so, that's how it is that I am 26 years old and still sleep with a bear. He kind of smells funny and he's long past the pristine white he was when he came to live with me all those years ago, and perhaps he's a little the worse for wear (he lost his hat long, long ago, and is threadbare in a few little spots.) But.. he's mine, and I won't bother telling you how much that silly bear means to me.
But I will say that I just spent an hour tonight carefully sewing up a couple of holes in the bear's arm and foot. And one day, maybe I'll even get the nerve up to give him a bath.
Anyway, after he bought the present, he also broke up with the girl, and so he was stuck with a teddy bear he didn't know what to do with... so he gave it to me. We were a little surprised because he was never one to throw money around, and he could have taken it back. But he didn't, and so the bear became a regular feature in my life. The bear went through a couple of traumatic moves with me, and he slept with me every night, and was somehow always there when I cried about something. I grew accustomed to having something to wrap my arms around when I slept. And the bear was always there with me. I never gave him a name--or rather, I never gave him a name that stuck. He was just The Bear.
When I grew up and became an old married lady, I relegated the bear to the shelf in the bedroom closet, but I was never happy about it. A while after we were married, the boy tucked me in at night and, feeling kind of nerdy and also a little sleepy and vulnerable, I asked for the Return of the Bear. Actually, what I asked was that he find the white bear in the closet and bug-check him for me. He was a little dusty that first night, but I was so glad to have him back that I couldn't have cared less. It was my bear! Back with me! And that is when he got the name that stuck--Earnest. (I would tell you how he got that name but it popped out of the clear blue sky.)
And so, that's how it is that I am 26 years old and still sleep with a bear. He kind of smells funny and he's long past the pristine white he was when he came to live with me all those years ago, and perhaps he's a little the worse for wear (he lost his hat long, long ago, and is threadbare in a few little spots.) But.. he's mine, and I won't bother telling you how much that silly bear means to me.
But I will say that I just spent an hour tonight carefully sewing up a couple of holes in the bear's arm and foot. And one day, maybe I'll even get the nerve up to give him a bath.
