Eleven Years and Counting

As the reader of this short piece I know you are expecting one thing and one thing only, to be entertained for the two or three minutes that it takes to read this piece. I’ll try my best to give you what you want. The audience is always right…wait or is that the “customer” is always right? Oh well, that is beside the point, I digress. As a child I felt I had way too much creativity for my own good. I had a habit of having an entourage of imaginary friends, all of whom had their own unique backgrounds and stories. I grew up as the youngest child with siblings all at least a decade older than me. It was an understatement to say I spent a lot of time alone. As insignificant as it may seem, there was one event in my childhood that changed me. That was the day I brought home my first and only teddy bear Brody Esquire Teddyskins.           

            Now I know you must be looking at this paper in your hand thinking, “How sad is it that till this day this 19-year-old girl considers her most significant experience in life to be getting a new teddy bear?” But I swear it’s going to make sense. Like I said I grew up as the youngest child, which basically was like growing up as an only child. I was always alone with my play-doh, Legos, Barney life-sized puzzle, and of course my stacks of coloring books. It got to be quite lonely, so I did what any other normal eight-year-old girl would do… I invented friends. All my imaginary friends had their own stories to them. One of them was a bunny named Kennedy, who was on the run from a vicious and tyrannical turtle who took over his bunny kingdom. There was even Esther, the traveling artist from Nantucket. She would be the one to help me with my coloring, although I had to make an executive decision to cut her loose from the entourage because she thought her tiger looked better than mine.

            Eventually my parents got tired of seeing me on the floor of my bedroom talking to what looked to be just myself. So on my dad’s day off they took me to Dave and Busters.  I was extremely shy as a child so throwing me into the chaotic kid-infested Utopia wasn’t what I would call my cup of tea. I clung to my mother’s skirt for dear life as though her skirt formed an invisible force field that would protect me from the anarchy.  Yet somehow like it always did, it failed me. There must have been a microscopic hole in the force field that left me vulnerable. My dad took me by the hand, sensing the fear in me, and tried to distract me. He would pick me up to sit on the chairs and show me how to play all the games. It wasn’t long till I discovered these huge games rewarded you with these little stubs called tickets. After about two and a half hours of random kids running by screeching and about one hundred dollars of my father’s own money, my parents decided to introduce me to the gift shop. They explained to me that in exchange for the correct number of tickets I could choose whatever I wanted from the shelves to take home. Now that was music to my ears. I was quite different from the other children; I walked alone around the shelves as if contemplating what would make a good addition to my box of toys. Nothing stuck out to me and just as I was about to turn and walk away with a yo-yo that’s when I heard his what I considered a squeaky but he still reaffirms was a perfectly masculine voice for his age. I looked straight up above my head to the third shelf, and there he sat with that warm comforting smile I have come to love. He asked me what my name was and I told him. Here I stood once again an eight-year-old little girl having a conversation to herself. He told me his name was Brody Teddyskins and that he thought I should take him home. He told me I looked shy and I told him I was. He said he could tell from the second I walked into the gift shop that I was a lot different from all the other children. He told me if I took him home he would protect me and I would never be lonely again. Well it did sound like a good deal, a bodyguard and a best friend? I was in no position to say no. I pulled my dad’s sleeve to let him know Brody was the one I wanted. As I watched my dad’s arm block the light in my small eyes to grab Brody from that shelf I felt a surge of excitement in the pit of my stomach. The second I hugged him everything in time and space seemed to freeze. It felt as if he hugged me back, indicating he needed me just as bad as I needed him. The rest of the car ride home I slept with him in my arms, the world finally didn’t seem so scary and lonely. My days at home were now filled with conversations about fantasy worlds, books, what kind of Jell-O mom would make after dinner.         

            As we have aged, Brody has kept his promise. I never have felt abandoned since then. He has protected me from boogieman in my dreams to real life boogieman like abusive ex-boyfriends. Through thick and thin in the last eleven years Brody has stood the test of time by my side. I may be a 19-year-old girl with a Teddy bear but the sad reality of the world is he has turned out to be a better friend than many of the people that have passed through my life. He changed me in a small way but very significant at the same time. Before him I was a painfully shy girl who kept to herself because no one could mistreat her that way. No one could call me names, hit me, or just insult me if I didn’t deal with people. Although it was an effective plan it also got to be very solitary at times. He came along, never judged me and always loved me. He listened to me read to him or even let me come home, as I got older to tell him about any new crushes or boyfriends. Even the college search didn’t seem as scary because I knew wherever I went he would be in my bed waiting to make my world a better place. He was my first friend in this big crazy world and will continue to be. When I get older and have my baby girl I will give Brody to her to make her world a little bit brighter just as he has made mine.