That Thing

                        

I am not much of a materialistic person. When I say I want something, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to have it, or that I need it. But as a foolish young person, I didn’t realize that, and I always wanted to have my way.

This bear wasn’t what I really wanted at first, but the Lucky Cows that were being sold at the mall. Due to an unfortunate twist of luck, and a bit of a disappointment on my part, I was given this bear. It turned out, I would definitely prefer this over the Lucky Cows I wanted back then.

I was particularly careful with this bear, never allowing it to touch the floor, always re-arranging its bow to make it look straight, and even taking the time to give it its own “bath” when it gets dirty. It reminded me of the person who gave it to me, and at that time, I always wanted the reminder.

For some reason, whenever I would get a stuffed toy from my mom, I would name is by its kind or specie, like I called the panda my mom bought for me as Mr. Panda (so creative of me xD). But this bear got a special exception, and instead of naming it Mr. Bear as I would normally have done under normal circumstances, I called him Mr. Vei after the person that gave it to me.

Aside from this bear, he also gave me a number of things, but none of them was made especially by him for me. He gave me a lot of things, but this is the one I treasured the most. I would always hug it and never use it as a pillow. But then again, it had its fair share of abuse whenever I was mad with him. Which, when I was, Mr. Vei will suddenly find himself being thrown against the wall, or being choked. Though after every anger episode, I always fluffed him up and placed him back to his position on the pillow.

Today, this bear is in a clear plastic bag stuck amongst my other stuffed toys from infancy in a cabinet with glass doors. Every time I would pass by and happen to see a foot or his entire head sticking out, I would remember the days when I was still playing with him and caring for him, a poor excuse to what I did to the person who gave him to me. But as always, I would just look at this bear, hold it in my hands, tweak it’s bow a little, look at him for a few minutes, reminisce, and then place him back in the cabinet. The memories with which he stood for are better left alone, amongst other childhood memories I had in that cabinet.

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