August 22, 2013
When I was young, I had stuffed animal like many young kids do, mine was a bear. He was particularly special because my uncle gave it to me on my birthday. However, the first two bears weren’t the ones that I really didn’t like at all. The first one had a bow, and smell that you can’t really describe it was “yuck”. The second one was small with a cute face, and a ribbon, but to me it was just another “perfect stuffed animal”. I guess you could say it was because it represented the first, just as I was the first child, but more than that was the fact that my uncle gave it to me, so regardless of how beautiful it was, I absolutely adored it. Over time this bear of mine became tattered and torn and spilled on. However, each accident my bear had (thanks to me) would become a treasure hunt for my mom and me. We would spend hours picking out the perfect fabric patch to fix him with, and of course it had to be PERFECT...after all, it was my bear we were talking about. He was marvelous. After some time, and much growing up, there are now only bits and pieces of the original fabric peeking out behind the layers of patches that my bear had to endure.
To most people, patches are a sign of repair and worthlessness. As a kid, these patches were fun, and were always there to soak up my tears whenever I cried. In whole, my bear was most definitely my biggest security and comfort as a kid. Whenever I would get in trouble my bear would always be there. Even when my uncle passed, I transferred my fear to my bunny, by comforting him and telling him that everything would be okay. Looking back on it now, I can see who was really comforting who.
Each patch not only brings back feelings of comfort, but it also brings in a flood of memories from my childhood. For