He would always remember the day he got the bear. A misty, foggy day, when the sun hid behind the blue-gray clouds and the wind whistled through the barren skeletons of trees. The soft, cheap plush of the stuffed animal in his chubby, small hands. The memory would always remain somewhere in the back of his mind, waiting to be dredged out by a wave of nostalgia.
Tears had streamed down his cheeks – his little legs hurt from walking all day, and he wanted to go home, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t. His father had handed him the precious thing in an attempt to calm him down, paid a fair price for the bear at the gift shop, and then they had walked to the parking lot. His icy fingertips held the bear close, letting it be his only comfort.
From then on, he treasured the bear dearly. Cuddled with it at night, played make-believe games during the day, and took it everywhere he went. He had no idea why he was so obsessed with the bear, but he was young, so such things didn’t matter. The bear was his, and it was wonderful.
He remembered vividly what his friends, parents, relatives, anyone who knew him well enough said with false sweetness. Why do you carry that bear everywhere? And then behind his back, What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he too old for this?
Not long after he got it, the once soft faux fur became tattered and rough, many patches missing. The deep colors of brown from the bright red and purple shirt it wore faded to a dull shade. The beady black eyes lackadaisically sewed on fell off, replaced by messy sharpie dots in the eye holes that had to be redone every few months. It was hardly a bear anymore, no longer the beautiful thing it had once been. He found he loved it dearly anyway.
He grew older. In his preteen and early teenage years, he kept it safely tucked in his backpack instead of in his arms. He still slept with it at night, of course, and had it out at home – but as an older, smarter kid, the bullying was starting to get to him. At one point, he took it out of his backpack and kept it at his bed instead, a bold and big change. He told himself it was necessary. It was time to grow up and try out new things.
At fifteen years, he stared at the bear as it sat on his bed, jaw clenched and eyes dark. He saw it, really, through the eyes of other people for the first time. The pitiful, tree-stump arms and tainted stuffing bursting from the seams. The missing ear and torn shirt. Disgusted, he shoved it under his bed and stormed out of his room, but later at night, he found he couldn’t sleep without it. Ashamed, he hid it – underneath a large pillow, told his parents he threw it away. It was his secret, and only he knew the truth.
They were glad and relieved, of course they were. Finally, you got rid of that old bear, they said with a small laugh. He forced a laugh as well. Obviously, his father had never meant for it to become such an attachment.
For longer after that he slept with it there, resting well now that he knew. The slight, extra lump in his pillow was enough reassurance to put him to sleep every night.
During his third year of high school, that day when it was wet and stormy, he recalled rushing into his house and slamming the door to his room, eyes watery and puffy. Helplessly, he flopped face-first onto his bed and sobbed. School was harder than he could manage, and he’d just gotten into a fight with his best friend. It seemed like nothing would get better, so desperately, he sought consolation. He pulled out from under the pillow the bear, musty and old, and tightly wrapped it between his arms.
It was almost forgotten after that. He stashed it away shortly after graduating, and moved out, hopes and dreams for his life ahead overshadowing the box that carried that particular piece of his childhood.
He found a respectable career in something technological, married, had kids. When he visited his parents in his old home and brought their grandchildren, it never crossed his mind to search the boxes or find his beloved bear. He was too preoccupied with… everything to find that memory deep in his head again.
Now, it was later. His own kids had grown up and left for college and careers, and recently his father sadly but peacefully passed away. He mourned in silence, not finding tears left in him to shed. He owed his old home a visit, and his mother, who battled depression. So he did, and in fact found himself in the basement with all those boxes.
The air in the basement reeked of mold and old things, and some of the outside bitter weather had soaked in. He shivered in his long overcoat, short, strands of salt-and-pepper hair falling onto his tired eyes. He reached into that box with a wrinkled hand and felt it. The once-soft plush. The eye-hole indents. The round half-moon of a singular ear.
Everything came rushing back, all at once. He remembered it all – what he’d forgotten, what he’d hidden, all those years back. Everything. Those sweet memories of his early years… his childhood, his cherished moments. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. He felt reawakened. How had he let himself forget?
He exhaled slowly and grabbed the bear, placing it gently in the folds of his coat as he walked out onto the sidewalk. He took in a nice gulp of cold air and smiled gently to himself as he unlocked his car. And then he drove away, and felt at peace for the first time in a while.
Tears had streamed down his cheeks – his little legs hurt from walking all day, and he wanted to go home, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t. His father had handed him the precious thing in an attempt to calm him down, paid a fair price for the bear at the gift shop, and then they had walked to the parking lot. His icy fingertips held the bear close, letting it be his only comfort.
From then on, he treasured the bear dearly. Cuddled with it at night, played make-believe games during the day, and took it everywhere he went. He had no idea why he was so obsessed with the bear, but he was young, so such things didn’t matter. The bear was his, and it was wonderful.
He remembered vividly what his friends, parents, relatives, anyone who knew him well enough said with false sweetness. Why do you carry that bear everywhere? And then behind his back, What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he too old for this?
Not long after he got it, the once soft faux fur became tattered and rough, many patches missing. The deep colors of brown from the bright red and purple shirt it wore faded to a dull shade. The beady black eyes lackadaisically sewed on fell off, replaced by messy sharpie dots in the eye holes that had to be redone every few months. It was hardly a bear anymore, no longer the beautiful thing it had once been. He found he loved it dearly anyway.
He grew older. In his preteen and early teenage years, he kept it safely tucked in his backpack instead of in his arms. He still slept with it at night, of course, and had it out at home – but as an older, smarter kid, the bullying was starting to get to him. At one point, he took it out of his backpack and kept it at his bed instead, a bold and big change. He told himself it was necessary. It was time to grow up and try out new things.
At fifteen years, he stared at the bear as it sat on his bed, jaw clenched and eyes dark. He saw it, really, through the eyes of other people for the first time. The pitiful, tree-stump arms and tainted stuffing bursting from the seams. The missing ear and torn shirt. Disgusted, he shoved it under his bed and stormed out of his room, but later at night, he found he couldn’t sleep without it. Ashamed, he hid it – underneath a large pillow, told his parents he threw it away. It was his secret, and only he knew the truth.
They were glad and relieved, of course they were. Finally, you got rid of that old bear, they said with a small laugh. He forced a laugh as well. Obviously, his father had never meant for it to become such an attachment.
For longer after that he slept with it there, resting well now that he knew. The slight, extra lump in his pillow was enough reassurance to put him to sleep every night.
During his third year of high school, that day when it was wet and stormy, he recalled rushing into his house and slamming the door to his room, eyes watery and puffy. Helplessly, he flopped face-first onto his bed and sobbed. School was harder than he could manage, and he’d just gotten into a fight with his best friend. It seemed like nothing would get better, so desperately, he sought consolation. He pulled out from under the pillow the bear, musty and old, and tightly wrapped it between his arms.
It was almost forgotten after that. He stashed it away shortly after graduating, and moved out, hopes and dreams for his life ahead overshadowing the box that carried that particular piece of his childhood.
He found a respectable career in something technological, married, had kids. When he visited his parents in his old home and brought their grandchildren, it never crossed his mind to search the boxes or find his beloved bear. He was too preoccupied with… everything to find that memory deep in his head again.
Now, it was later. His own kids had grown up and left for college and careers, and recently his father sadly but peacefully passed away. He mourned in silence, not finding tears left in him to shed. He owed his old home a visit, and his mother, who battled depression. So he did, and in fact found himself in the basement with all those boxes.
The air in the basement reeked of mold and old things, and some of the outside bitter weather had soaked in. He shivered in his long overcoat, short, strands of salt-and-pepper hair falling onto his tired eyes. He reached into that box with a wrinkled hand and felt it. The once-soft plush. The eye-hole indents. The round half-moon of a singular ear.
Everything came rushing back, all at once. He remembered it all – what he’d forgotten, what he’d hidden, all those years back. Everything. Those sweet memories of his early years… his childhood, his cherished moments. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. He felt reawakened. How had he let himself forget?
He exhaled slowly and grabbed the bear, placing it gently in the folds of his coat as he walked out onto the sidewalk. He took in a nice gulp of cold air and smiled gently to himself as he unlocked his car. And then he drove away, and felt at peace for the first time in a while.