by J. L. Thurston

I was made in a factory with hundreds of others designed exactly like me. All of us brown, small, and soft. We were made to comfort. I was made to be loved by a child.

I was boxed and shipped, stored, and shipped again. I sat on display in a store where I was purchased along with diapers and formula. Then I was placed in a crib. If I’d had a heart, it would have started to beat right then and there, as I was tucked in beside a warm, curly-headed baby girl. That was my life and it was perfect. Some nights my baby would hold me, and sometimes she would just look at me until closing her eyes.

I was her bear and she was my baby.

One day, a woman I knew as the mom came and began to box everything up, me including. We were moving away. I sat in a box with some other toys for a long time. I didn’t know how long it would take to see my baby again, but I waited patiently for that box to open. And it finally did! One by one, the mom took some toys out of the box. I waited for my turn. She lifted me up and stared at me with a thoughtful expression. We were in a new house and there was lots of noise. But I didn’t see my baby and I didn’t see the crib. No. Instead, the mom lifted the lid to an old wooden chest and tucked me in carefully.

There I sat in darkness and quiet save for muffled sounds I couldn’t discern. Years went by this way. I was only given brief glimpses of light as the lid to the chest was opened just long enough for the mom to add another item to the chest. Ribbons, trophies, books, and small trinkets.

Thirty-one years. I spent thirty-one years waiting in that chest. I didn’t mind, but I did get pretty dusty. And lonely.

Then one day the woman opened the chest lid and stared down at all she had collected. She had aged terribly. I think thirty-one years had been unkind to her. I knew the feeling. Slowly, she began to remove things from the chest. Then her hand went to me and lifted me up. I was out of the chest! She placed me in a plastic bag with a few ribbons and books and handed me off to a man.

He took me with him on a car ride. I was leaving the house. Leaving. If I’d had a heart, it would have started to break right then as I realized I was being taken away from my baby. I didn’t even get a goodbye hug.

The man parked and grabbed me up, bag and all, and carried me inside a warm house. I was handed over and the bag opened up to reveal a young woman looking down at me with a questioning face.

“Your mom says this was your stuff,” the man explained.

The young woman scrutinized the bag, looking at the books, the ribbons, and me. She lifted a few of the ribbons from the bag. “Best Boys Group Singing Contest?” she said flatly. “I think her addled brain doesn’t remember which one of her kids this stuff ever belonged to.

She sounded frustrated, but mostly sad. She looked at me. And looked at me. I waited for her to pick me up, to hold me like she used to. I love you! I wanted to scream. Oh, yes, I recognized my baby right away. How could I not? I’ve been waiting to see her again for thirty-one years.

“You’re not going to throw it away, are you?” the man asked.

If I’d had a heart, it would have stopped. My baby, my young woman, my person thought about it. She actually thought about it. How cruel, how perfectly terrible it would be to wait for her for so long only to have her throw me away with the trash. Why was I ever put away in that chest?

“I don’t remember having a bear,” she said. “I can’t guarantee any of this ever belonged to me. And I can’t believe she knows anything anymore. All she does is lie. Who knows, this could be another type of manipulation. I don’t know.”

Please don’t throw me away.

And me, still in the sack, and all those things in there with me got tossed onto a table. I listened closely as the young woman and the man talked some more. The man was her dad. I don’t remember him being around when she was a baby but there was so much I missed while locked away in that chest.

I considered the aged look of the mom and the haggard eyes of my young woman, the bitterness, the sadness in her voice. Life had been unkind to them. But that is what I was there for! I wanted to scream. I’m here for you! I’m here for you!

But I waited in that bag. I could do nothing else. I wondered if this would be it for me. I was only her bear for such a short time. She didn’t have me long enough to take comfort from me now when she really needed me. If only she would pick me up, hold me, put me on her pillow. Maybe that would help.

The dad left, the house quieted, and days passed. I waited. The plastic bag crinkled and a little face peered in. A little girl. Her face was so much like my young woman it was startling.

“What’s in this, Mama?”

Little hands reached out, wrapped around me, and I was lifted from the bag. Out of the bag! I could see the house, a Christmas tree was up, and a little girl was holding me. My young woman entered the room and peered down at me, at her daughter clutching me to her chest. How good it felt to be held again!

“Oh.” She sighed and stared, thinking. “My mom said that stuff belonged to me when I was a baby, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

The little girl looked at me, holding me close so that we were nose-to-nose. “Hm. Well, I think he was your bear, Mama. Can I keep him?”

“He’s really dusty and I don’t think he’d survive a round in the washing machine.” Her voice was so much kinder when she spoke to the little girl.

“But I love him!” the little girl pleaded.

If I’d had a heart, it would have burst.

The young woman resigned, shrugging it off, but the corners of her mouth quirked up just enough. “Try to get some of that dust off or you’ll be sneezing all night.” That was all she said and she walked away.

My new little girl cheered, she hugged me so tight and gently brushed me off with her fingers. She took me to her room and right onto her bed. There were probably twenty other stuffed animals there. It took some time, but she introduced me to all of them. She called me Old Bear.

That night, my girl’s mom came to bed and sat down among all us stuffed animals. My girl cuddled up and held me. Together we listened to bedtime stories.

The mom had several glances for me. Finally, she said, “You have to be gentle with that bear, okay?”

My girl held me closer. “Yep! He loves it in my bed, I can tell. He’s going to sleep with me every night until I have a baby and then I’ll give him to her.”

The mom laughed gently. “He’ll be very old by then. I hope he can hold out.”

My girl gave me a knowing smile. “He will.”