When one is a child, one accumulates stuff…toys, bits, things and bears. Lots and lots of teddy bears, which apparently don’t even need to closely resemble a bear. A teddy bear or teddy can be anything that is soft and comforting to a child, or an adult…let’s be honest.
I could never quite bring myself to get rid of any of my soft, furry friends. Some came from Mum and Dad, some from friends, some from boyfriends, some for good luck, some for friendship, some were won and some, well, who knows. I had my favourites and I could probably tell you a story about each and every one, but I won’t bare my soul and you wouldn’t bear it. (sorry for the tasteless bear jokes)
My lovely son inherited the goods and the emotions to go with them and bizarrely became as attached as his mother was and in fact still is. After retrieving some of them from a box in the loft…don’t judge, they were safe, dry and still absently loved…he picked the ones he decided to love and keep, um, the big ones, the bear ones, the small ones, the fluffy ones, the hard ones, the squishy ones, the cute ones, the funny looking ones…and the rest is history.
Now I get to move them around the room as I make the bed or clear the shelves and sometimes curse the amount of stuffed animals on show in his boyish, blue and untidy space. Tonight I realised that this will not last forever. So, from this moment, I shall love and embrace every single one of his hairy friends and use my energy to hope and pray that he will love and cherish these inanimate objects for a little while longer and need them…because I do.
I also need him to need them for now. Please. Just for a little bit longer.
