you're never too old...

my pooh bear is a sad sight. he's missing yellowed fur in the spots where my childhood hands held him night after night. his frayed red shirt is a little bit shrunken and coming apart at the seams. he holds smells of playtime, sleep time, and also the dusty, semi-forgotten left-in-a-box smell of growing up. and even amidst all his maladies, my pooh bear is the best cuddler.

he is always exactly where i leave him, be it my bed or the floor or my middle school closet, and he doesn't mind waiting. he knows all my secrets- even the ones i never say out loud. when i cry to him, he doesn't ask questions or try to preach advice. when i giggle uncontrollably, he simply smiles back. he never turns down a hug, or shys away from kisses.

he isn't jealous, for often he has been pushed aside for my girlfriends, or hidden from some boyfriend in embarassment. he isn't manipulative or controlling. he doesn't tell lies, nor does he sugarcoat hard truths. he isn't vindictive (thankfully) or else i too would have amateur haircuts from kindergarten scissors. he isn't selfish. his existence is solely to make mine a little lighter.

i said a prayer of thanks to the universe last night for giving me my pooh bear. then i said another one asking for help to become more like him.

well, all except for the balding, maybe.