I apologize for my absence. I was taking a much needed vacation after 6 years of only taking Christmas off.
Because I am still suffering from jet lag, I am going to start myself off easy with another readers’ choice Wednesday.
You know the drill, take a look at the picture, practice your descriptive writing skills, propose a setting, expand your vocabulary; whatever suits your fancy.
When I was small, I had a stuffed dog, with a heart in its mouth. I dragged that poor creature everywhere: through mud puddles, to snot infested classrooms, and everywhere in between. Where I went, Puppy went too, tucked neatly under my left arm.
When I moved away from home, I was certain that I had lost him forever. I thought about him sometimes, letting memories cover me in a fine film of guilt, but I never thought I would find him.
Then, as my mother was digging through a box looking for another long lost treasure, he tumbled onto the floor. Stained and smelling of dust and must, but alive and well and whole. The feeling of tucking him up under my arm again was the most comforting thing I’ve felt in a long time.
Inside of him, Puppy has much more than stuffing. He has tears and laughter and mud and secrets. His stitching holds in every hurt, every wonder, every joy that I experienced as a child. And I hope I never lose him again.
What was your first stuffy? Do you still have it?
I’ll be on Facebook until next time.