Dad is dying,

Mum forgeting,

my sister and I go, to move them to a home,

we pack all their stuff, efficient, brusque

cardboard coffins stuffed with paper and memories,

black garbage bags dumped in the charity bin,

books donated cruelly, like orphans by

unfeeling aunts, who turn and leave, releaved to be rid of them

then my sister finds a Bear, an old beat up thing with ratty matted fur and a broken

button on one eye, and now she is no longer

my ally, she becomes like my parents, emotional

confused, very childlike, full of tears

the tattered bear has a name,

as silly as his felt pink tonguse

she pets him, hugs him

reminds him of days

that smelled of cut grass

that sang like a Red Robin

that laughed like a little girl

that kissed like a mother.

she can’t recall his name

but somehow Mum

who can no longer find the mailbox

knows his name is Freddy Bear

And then she finds my Eddy Bear

and we laugh in the kitchen

and I remember who my parents were

and hug who they are now tightly, regretfully

I slept alone a lot as a kid. Being an only child for seven years, with a single mom for at least five of them, I don't have a lot of memories sleeping in a shared room. I have more memories of laying awake at night trying to sleep as shadows swirled around my room in the moonlight.

Like most kids, I didn't like the dark. I had a vivid imagination and I could think of all kinds of fantastical monsters that lived in it. Yet I had a stubborn independence streak; I couldn't go crawling to mom so instead I took a tactical approach.

I assembled a plush army.

Every night, as I climbed into bed, I created a stuffed wall around myself. It started with my first and favorite teddy bear, but a general alone does no good. We recruited stuffed dogs, a Glow-worm, stuffed snakes (I started to choose animals who represented what I thought of as "natural" monsters - all the better to fight against the imaginary ones) and a few more bears. My ritual each night involved making sure they got tucked in around me. I usually did this myself, although occassionally my grandma or ma would help, with a soft chuckle at my horde.

Eventually I realized the stuffed army couldn't replace my real-life support network. Yet good soldiers never die; I kept them all. While I no longer needed them to stand guard at night, I retired them to shelves in my room in places of honor. A few I donated to smaller kids I knew, when I recognized the need for a trustworthy stuff-for-hire. The rest still live with me, carefully tucked away but always prepared for battle.

As a joke for my 20th birthday, my mother got me a giant bear that looked just like my original general - just three times the size. She smiled. "Well, I figured you were bigger so you'd need a bigger bear." It still sits on a table in my bedroom as a tribute to the plushes that kept a small child safe.

My partner laughted at it once when we first moved in together; the death glare I gave quickly ended all future jokes on the matter.

You do not ridicule the honor of teddy bears.

They have fought the darkness for much longer than you.

Teddy bear is such

a strange bedfellow

an oddity in reality

so much like me

two eyes,

a nose,

a mouth

stitched closed

in the silent

screams

of infancy

I hold you

close

by darkest light

and bare the soul

even now

when I cannot

speak a word

I can still

hold

Life's hope

07.19.2020

Write about a teddy bear. What is its significance? challenge @Isabellamb

My "teddy bear" was a lion. I've had him since I was two. I cut his mane thinking it would grow back. It didn't. I used to give him baths and brush him until he was fluffy and bushy, apart from the back of his head that was bald.

I slept with him every night until I became a child bride at the age of 18, and my husband wouldn't let me. I packed him away through tears. I would wait until my husband went to work, and I would sneak into the box where Liolyn lay, and I would take him out and sniff him.

When I left my husband, ten years later, I left the country. I left everything behind. I trusted him to send me my childhood best friend. He threw him out. He never cared.

My fellow,

My pillow,

my friend ,

On whom I used to bend,

Who soaks my tears,

And my worries got mend.

The silent listener,

The kind comforter,

He is my best friend.

As a little kid, I loved my teddy bear. I brought it with me everywhere. I brought it on countless camping trips, sleepovers, and summer camp. In my teens, I forgot all about it and lost him in my early 20s. Then I started having kids of my own. As I was looking for something else. I accidentally found him buried beneath some boxes, my koala teddy bear. So, I gave him to my daughter. 3 years later it is still her favourite stuffy. She named it Daddy stuffy.

For some reason, the blaring alarm didn't wake me. I was woken by my mother screaming my name and saying we needed to "get out now."

Down the stairs. Past the playroom ablaze. Out the front door. Into the street.

Orange flames shot sideways out of the house, the conflagaration blinding and bewildering. A thick fog enveloped my mind, my bare feet numb on the pavement, my fingers locked around Ted E. Bear's soft paw.

My parents didn't let me watch for long.

Inside the safety of my neighbors house, the groginess subsided, and I realized that my teddy bear was the only material item I had left, that any of us had left for that matter.

Stuffed glory

Man-made companion

My beautiful Robert

In my embrace you laid

In thy bosom I placed my head

My loving and caring Robert

Though you never uttered a word

We spoke countlessly on my bedside

Oiled by my perspiration

Robert my rock star

Your final surgery you failed to survive

My heart bleeds as I place you carefully

A one-way ticket to the dump site

We had a great decade together

Goodbye my dancing teddy

Robert