It is so very bright, and it has been so long.

I hated being in that box.

Of course, I understand. I’m important. I’m precious. I mean something to her, even though she’s outgrown me…


She has  little ones of her own now… awww! They’re so cute!

I can see her debating…

She’s wondering. I’ve always been able to read her mind.

“Do I put him back in the box, where he will stay safe forever? Or perhaps on a high shelf, and give the kids a stern lecture about never ever touching him? He’s kinda stinky, actually… he is almost 40 years old. Maybe I should just let him go, and put him in the trash.”

There is one other option… if only she will consider it.

“Or shall I just give him to my girls? Old and fragile and stinky as he is? What use is it to keep him for so long, if he’s always in a box? If I’m thinking about throwing him away, why not just let them play with him and… well, if they aren’t gentle, if they don’t show him the same care and consideration I always did, at least he will be loved.”

Oh please oh please! Let me play with the little girls! I promise I won’t mind if I end up in the bottom of their toy chest with my pom-pom nose ripped off. Just don’t put me back in the box.

This memoir was written in response to the Write on Edge prompt:

  • Do objects have a memory? Does a rocking chair hold the essence of the snuggles it has witnessed? Does a pottery mug remember the comforting warmth it offered a struggling soul?
  • The dictionary defines personification as “the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.”
  • This week, tell a piece of your story from the point of view of an object who bore witness.

Theodore was my beloved teddy bear from when I was just a couple years old, through my teenage years when he sat on a shelf looking cute, through my adulthood when he was in a box with other old cherished memories. When I had kids of my own, I found him in a box and went through the hard decision of what to do with him.

I let my girls have him.

And yes, he ended up in the bottom of the toybox!

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