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The Art of a Memory

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Among my collection of special treasures is a little teddy bear with green overalls and a missing eye. This bear has been one of my special treasures ever since I was just a child. It means a lot to me – it’s almost like a memory, stored away in the back of my mind for rainy days so I can just pull it out and recall the times when life was even simpler than now. Not a single worry clouded my young mind as I clung to that special bear on Christmas day, nine years ago. My grandfather, who I called my ‘Papa’ had given it to me, and I have cherished it long since. My grandfather passed away when I was young, but he had always held a spot in my heart. I still remember when he gave me the bear, and how proud I had been to own it. His bright smile had always welcomed me when I came to visit him and he would pick me up, swing me around and say “Hi, Bright Eyes!” and I would cling to my bear and grin toothily up at him. Now, as the years have passed, my Grandfather still remains in my heart, and the bear he gave to me has its special place with me as well.

I keep this special little bear in my room, sitting beside another of my grandfather’s old collector bears that was given to me later, after he passed. He sits upon a pile of books, lingering in my bookshelf, waiting to be passed on to the next generation. Of course, I would almost feel like I was losing all of my beloved memories by losing him, but I know that they’ll be with me no matter what trials I face and no matter what I have to give up. It’s not necessarily the bear that I treasure so much, but the memories. If I were ever to give this bear away, it would be with pleasure and total agreement with what I was doing.

I would give it to somebody who could appreciate it as much as I have all these years – somebody who would cherish it.

Speaking of cherishing, I certainly did cherish that bear. I had my fun with it as a child – giving it multiple ‘Hair cuts’ which consisted of me snipping off all of its precious collectable hair so I could keep him ‘looking good’. That wasn’t all, either - He had lost a hat, an eye, lots of fur and even a few accessories. With all this bear had been through, he may as well have been through a war. Although he looks rough and old and maybe even like he was dug out of a dumpster, I treasure this childhood memory.



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