PJ

I was eight when I held my first baby (my little cousin). It’s also when I received my favorite stuffed animal of all time, PJ. He was a dark brown dog stuffed with beans or rice that eventually started leaking through holes my mother would sew shut for me. He had white ears that turned gray over time and a black nose which he lost at some point in our short life together. He was well-loved…

When I was 16, my mother, PJ and I did a “grand tour” of Europe: England, France, Switzerland and Italy. In Italy, during a flurry of packing for an early morning departure, I left PJ snuggling under the sheets in a hotel in Florence. We were on the bus traveling to our next destination when I realized he was not in my possession. I was devastated. I cried for hours that day. When we stopped in Assisi, the tour guide, Francisco, said he would call the hotel and see what he could do. Our fellow travelers tried to comfort me, Miss Sunshine, saddened that my customary smile was submerged in tears.

We arrived in Rome in time for dinner that evening. During the meal, just before dessert was served, Francisco proclaimed victory: The hotel where poor PJ had been left behind had found my well-loved friend and sent him along with another tour group heading in the same direction. They had arrived just minutes before and dear Francisco had PJ in his hand. When he held him aloft for all to see, the room erupted into laughter. They couldn’t believe the sad excuse for a stuffed dog was what had caused the ocean of tears that day.

I didn’t care. I ran up to Francisco and hugged him as I grabbed PJ and hugged him, too.

Sadly, a year later I left him tucked in a bed in Petersburg, Virginia and though my mother tried to retrieve him, that hotel said he could not be found.

I like to think another little girl in need of a silent friend that swallowed tears and comforted broken hearts found him and loved him well.