I’ll admit it–I still have my original, given-to-me-when-I-was-a- baby teddy bear. Mom named him Percy, and Percy has been with me all these years. He went from lying in my crib with me to leaning against the pillows of my big-girl bed, and even went to college with me. He’s tagged along through several moves, three different states, many jobs and two marriages. In fact, he’s sitting on my craft table right now.
I have never been able to let him go, even when my two step-daughters were little and might have liked him. I now have a 3 and a half year old granddaughter, but she’s seriously into Minnie Mouse and Sheriff Cali, so I don’t know how they would get along. He’s an old and well-loved bear, and is used to being with me. Even as the Crankee Yankee (my husband) and I debate paring down our belongings as we get older, I still consider Percy valuable and want him with me.
I know, I know–I’m all grown up now and don’t need a teddy bear any longer, but what if he still needs me? How could I leave him? I could do the adult thing and donate him, but how will I know where he goes? I have lost or given away so many of my things from childhood and adulthood; some that have meant a lot to me. Some things I passed on to people who I knew would like and appreciate them, but who in the world will cherish my old Percy as much as me?
It’s silly sentiment to think that any of our beloved belongings have feelings, but there it is–I do think so. Percy certainly isn’t the bear he used to be; he is threadbare in some places, and both eyes have been replaced several times. The center seam down his chest now looks like a triple bypass scar on an old man, and his ears are a little thin because I used to rub them so much. I don’t even know where he came from or who gave him to me, but we have been buddies ever since. Each time I think I’m ready to let him go, I’m not ready at all. I can’t explain the attachment I have to him; I just know I still need him. He has absorbed all my kisses and tears and confidences over the years as a good friend does–I guess you could say that we have a long-standing bond.
Honestly, can you just see me in a nursing home years from now, poor old balding Percy still clutched in my wrinkled old chicken claw? But you know, I’ll bet I won’t be the only old gal who still has their first friend with them.
Just sayin’, Percy old pal.