Sunday, October 26, 2008
My Pooh-Bear
Do you remember the feeling you got when you realize you lost your favorite toy when you were little? Well, my comfort toy was my pooh-bear and I remember how it was for me when I forgot it at my mom’s house. I was alone. I was in despair, for my world was torn apart and there was no reason to go on living so you just brake down and cry.
Well, my whole point of this is the not the lost feeling, but the feeling when you get that toy back. Your heart sings with unreserved joy!
After my whole rant here, this blog is about what makes you really, truthfully happy. That new Prada bag isn't going to give you the same joy as that toy that you once had. After a while that bag (that is so not worth what you paid for it), looses its effect. It is so last season. You can't be seen with an outdated Prada! Pfffft! Now… that pooh-bear will never be outdated, outdone, nor will I be sad about what I once paid for it.
So. Back to an actual story that will, like you know, relate to what I just slowly killed you with in the last few paragraphs.
When I was three I was given a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal, at the time it was almost as big as I was. I had grown very attached to the stuffed animal since the moment I saw it, I spent all my time with the thing. When I didn’t have the strength I would drag it on the ground and this caused the toy to become very dirty and mauled looking, but I loved it all the same. I sat him at the table with me when I ate, he slept with me, and on several occasions my parents would find him in the bathtub with me. I loved pooh-bear, he was my best friend.
Growing up I had to wean myself away from the pooh-bear. My mom’s boyfriend at the time had sold it at a pawnshop for money (or so she thought[who would sell an old tattered toy like it, and expect to get money from it I’ll never know]). And so I was forced to face the cruel reality that I would never get to snuggle my pooh-bear again. Of course I got older and slowly, I began to forget about my favorite stuffed animal. Not until just recently had my mom discovered the animal in one of her rented storage sheds in Midvale, when she presented it to me at first I had no recollection of the toy; But minutes passed and my mom renewed memories in my mind of all the adventures pooh-bear and I had together.
After you have been reunited with the toy you have missed so much, you don't ever want to let it go again. You love it. My Pooh-Bear is my family, figuratively speaking. You can't replace it, it doesn’t go out of season, and it will always be worth more than your damn Prada bag. Way more.
Well, my whole point of this is the not the lost feeling, but the feeling when you get that toy back. Your heart sings with unreserved joy!
After my whole rant here, this blog is about what makes you really, truthfully happy. That new Prada bag isn't going to give you the same joy as that toy that you once had. After a while that bag (that is so not worth what you paid for it), looses its effect. It is so last season. You can't be seen with an outdated Prada! Pfffft! Now… that pooh-bear will never be outdated, outdone, nor will I be sad about what I once paid for it.
So. Back to an actual story that will, like you know, relate to what I just slowly killed you with in the last few paragraphs.
When I was three I was given a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal, at the time it was almost as big as I was. I had grown very attached to the stuffed animal since the moment I saw it, I spent all my time with the thing. When I didn’t have the strength I would drag it on the ground and this caused the toy to become very dirty and mauled looking, but I loved it all the same. I sat him at the table with me when I ate, he slept with me, and on several occasions my parents would find him in the bathtub with me. I loved pooh-bear, he was my best friend.
Growing up I had to wean myself away from the pooh-bear. My mom’s boyfriend at the time had sold it at a pawnshop for money (or so she thought[who would sell an old tattered toy like it, and expect to get money from it I’ll never know]). And so I was forced to face the cruel reality that I would never get to snuggle my pooh-bear again. Of course I got older and slowly, I began to forget about my favorite stuffed animal. Not until just recently had my mom discovered the animal in one of her rented storage sheds in Midvale, when she presented it to me at first I had no recollection of the toy; But minutes passed and my mom renewed memories in my mind of all the adventures pooh-bear and I had together.
After you have been reunited with the toy you have missed so much, you don't ever want to let it go again. You love it. My Pooh-Bear is my family, figuratively speaking. You can't replace it, it doesn’t go out of season, and it will always be worth more than your damn Prada bag. Way more.
Labels: Childhood, Love, Stuffed Animal, Toy, Winnie the Pooh
--Cloud Envy.
10:15 AM
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10:15 AM
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