that bear.

That bear. That silly, half-stuffed, once-white, stiff-furred bear is really another member of our family. We take him everywhere which explains why his fur is no longer soft or white. He has been subject to throw up, spit up, and pee. He has endured multiple surgeries to mend his tired, old body. I don't want to be around on the day Mr. Bear bites the dust. We will keep sewing his body until the last possible day.

Tim and I spent nearly forty minutes searching for Mr. Bear tonight. Mya cannot sleep without him. I can count on two hands the few nights they've spent apart, and they ended up being sleepless nights. She is attached to this thing like I am attached to Tim or my favorite pair of running shoes. I have never been one to become attached to a single item; I normally choose to attach myself to people, which is probably why I struggled when losing a friend/boyfriend. However, I love Mr. Bear so much because Mya loves him. I hug him whenever I see him sitting alone on the ground because those moments are rare.

Oh Mr. Bear...we may not need another male in this house. You may be all we can handle.