I remember as a child I had a diary, but the only thing I ever remember writing in it is that I didn’t want to go somewhere one day and just wanted to stay home and play with my teddy bear.
My teddy bear didn’t have a name at first. I remember calling it “Sunshine” at some point but the name I ultimately stuck with was “Teddy.” Very original, I know.
Teddy had been my companion since I was very young. When I was four or five years old, my family went to an amusement park called Six Flags. There, my parents won two stuffed bears, one each for my brother and me, after playing a carnival game. Both the bears were a sort of turquoise blue, and mine was a darker shade than my brother’s.
It was my most cherished stuffed animal, so much so that my mother would frequently have to re-stuff and patch up the bear after it’s continuous wear out, and each time she did it with a smile and without complaint, because she knew how much I loved my teddy.
Eventually by the time I was 11 years old, I’d lost the bear after traveling to India..
I realized that I am someone who gets deeply attached to those I love, and it is very difficult for me to part with them.
If I have loved, I cannot let that person go, I want them in my life forever.
However, just like my teddy bear, I cannot be with everyone I love forever, and just like the 11 year old me who learned to give up her attachment to her beloved stuffed bear, 12 years later, the adult me has to learn to let go of some of my loved ones too..