About today’s subject, did anyone else have the immediate mental flash of little Linus (I think) and his ever-present blanket?
Sometime in the past century my security blanket took the shape of a warm fuzzy Teddy Bear. And like Mary’s little lamb, Teddy was sure to go wherever I went.
One day I was watching my paternal grandfather working in the garden. He was hoeing the rows of beans and I was inspired to get my hands in the s oil too. Next thing you know I had excavated a nice little grave. I hasten to tell you I may have been reacting to the experience of having to attend a recent funeral of a distant relative of our family. (It’s never too soon to be exposed to grown up customs, mores, and folk traditions, or so our family thought.)
You guessed it. Teddy suffered a sudden demise and fit in the hole I had dug, snug as the proverbial bug in the rug.
After several days, maybe even a week, I missed the security and companionship of Teddy, which led to his exhumation. There he lay patiently waiting, soggy and his brown fur turned prematurely gray. But his eyes were still bright and shining and his smile was still happily stitched in place.
A few days on the clothes line in the sun and a god grooming with mother’s hairbrush, my security, not too much worse for wear, had returned from as they say, a fate worse than death.
So much for a child’s imagination, curiosity, and innocence; it was good to have Teddy’s love and security back again.
© 21 March 2016
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