My bedroom was
painted purple now and my sister and I slept in our separate twin beds. The sun was starting to set and I could feel
the tendrils of anticipation begin to tickle my tummy. I was prepared. One by one, I had found them and put them
into the basket next to my bed. Mommy
had told me that the Pacifier Fairy was going to visit me. She said that the
fairy would give my pacifiers to little girls who needed them more than me. I
knew it was time. After all, I was
already three. I was a big girl. Besides,
Mommy also told me the fairy would give me something in return, and I liked
that. The next morning, I looked in my
basket. All my friends were gone, but
the fairy had left another companion in their stead. I believe in Yellow Bear. He was fat and yellow. He had brown eyes and fit perfectly in my
arms. His fur wasn’t very soft and he smelled like cotton, but nobody is
perfect. Already we knew that we were
going to be good friends. Each night I
would hug him tightly and every morning I would carefully tuck him into my bed.
My room was painted pink now and I
had my own room. It was time to pack
them all up. I was in junior in high
school now and I needed to say goodbye to my stuffed animals and dolls. They
were taking up too much space and I needed to make room for my desk. My mom had given me one of her unused bins to
use in my farewell ceremony. One by one,
I packed my friends into a box giving them each a personal ‘goodbye’. They all left, everyone but Yellow Bear. Besides, he wanted to be in my school photo
this year, and I can never say no to him. He was still fat, but a little
misshapen from years of hugs. If you
looked at his paw, you would see crude stitches where I had patched a tear. And on the back of his head was a bald spot
where I had impulsively decided to give him a haircut. It was a mistake, but he forgave me. No.
Yellow Bear was staying.
My room is painted navy blue now and
I have a queen size bed. I have to take
down all my posters and memories off the wall to make room for my new décor. I told my mom that I wanted a mature, ‘adult’
styled room now that I was in college.
No more fair wristbands and school dance tickets taped to the wall. Goodbye Irish flag, dollar bill I won in a bet
and academic medals. One by one, relics
of my adolescence are placed carefully in the box labeled “Ruby’s
Childhood”. I close the first box and
put it in my closet. When I look up, I
see him. Sitting on the shelf, with his
graying fur and dulled eyes, he looks at me. I smile. Everything was going.
Well, everything except Yellow Bear.
