He was the ugliest bear on earth. His fur was falling out, and he was mostly bald when I got him. Stuffing was popping out of one of his hands, and his head sagged to the side because he was older than time. But I loved him the instant I saw him. I was 3 years old and down in the basement with my mom looking through old boxes. We were down to the last one when she opened it up and I saw him. I instantly grabbed him and gave him a hug.
“He was mine growing up,” my mom informed me. “He used to be the cutest bear on this earth, but he’s seen better days now.”
“I’ll take care of him mom! I’ll be his best friend and take him everywhere!” I told her. She told me that he was mine if I wanted him, and just like that I had a new best friend.

I wouldn’t go anywhere without him; I dragged him along to the grocery store, when we went on vacations, to friends’ houses, etc. No matter where I was he was always by my side. I remember one time I lost him and I cried for days. I couldn’t go to sleep without him. I would always end up in my parent’s bed, because I was so scared to sleep alone. My parents searched everywhere, desperate to find him for me, and he eventually turned up. But I can vividly remember how I upset I was for those few days. My tears were constant.

I put that little bear through a lot. I once dropped him off the loft I sleep in at my lake house and he fell into a bowl of salsa. We had to put him in the washer at least 10 times to get the smell off him. Another time I dropped him in the toilet because I thought he might want to go swimming. I rest my case.

I named him Teddy. Looking back now, I think that’s the worst name in the world. I mean, how cliché. A teddy bear named Teddy. But at the time I though it was the best name in the world for him. As time went on, Teddy’s appearance became worse and worse. He looked like a rag with eyes. Well sometimes he looked like a rag with eyes, other times he just looked like a rag because his eyes popped off from time to time. He was also thinning out. He was delicate and I was probably al little rough on him. I would always hold his hand and drag him around and soon a hole popped open in his armpit. I was devastated. I thought he was going through actual pain because he had a “boo-boo.” Luckily, my Gran was staying at our house at the time and she had an idea.

“Here Ave, follow me upstairs to my bag and ill show you something that can help Teddy,” she instructed. I followed her upstairs and through my torrential tears I saw an array of colors. I wiped my eyes and saw hundreds of different types of fabric, every color and design you can imagine. My Gran told me to pick one and she would fix Teddy. I picked one with horses on it, of course, and within an hour my Gran had sown a patch right over Teddy’s hole. As time went on, Teddy would get hole after hole and my Gran would stitch a patch on him with the precision of a professional. These days, my Teddy still sits on my shelf and watches over me, but he looks a million times better then the day I met him. He is filled with patches of different colors and looks like a multicolored bear. Teddy made my childhood for me and will always be apart of who I am today. I plan to keep stitching him up with patches and one day give him to my kids to take care of. One thing is for sure, that Teddy bear is one determined little stuffed animal.