A soft comfort

This week I'm sick and tired. As per status quo relationships are hard and confusing, work is stressful and unending, the days are too long, the nights are too short, and comfort is hard to come by. But there has been a constant comfort in my life that I would like to tell you about tonight.

Most everyone has something from their childhood that they've always loved. A blanket, a stuffed thing, tattered and in ribbons by the time they've struggled into their high school years. Often families encourage discarding or storing such familiar sources of comfort as a sign of growing up. My family however did not. They encouraged me to hold on to my bear Duncan. In a scary and unfamiliar world built on unending chaos my family understood that there must be a source of constant comfort. Tonight I want to tell you about the little bear who warms my heart.

I'm sure that Duncan used to look different. In fact my grandma and mother will sometimes point at the kind of fluffy teddy that Duncan used to resemble. However, he is actually one six full months older than me, an early Christmas present given to my mother the Christmas before my birth. He spent six months with me prior to birth and nearly every night since. For a 26 year old teddy bear, he's holding up just fine.

He's average sized. In hight hes maybe a foot, foot and a half. He used to be plump, however I like to sleep on top of him, literally, all my weight crushing down on the poor little guy, now he's more of a flat than fat. When I was young they used to make bears without any thing sewn on. His eyes are marked by a darker fur around the nose, which is indicated by a slightly less flat part pushing out of his face, also marked at the end in black. Although his black nose has been colored over and worn down from years of kisses. His ears are also mostly black as well as the palm and soles of his feet. Everything else is tan. It's more of a light brown when he's clean but lets be honest, teddy bears are not washed weekly.

I love the way he smells. Like laundry soap, like bar soap, like clean sheets, like me, like my house, like all the places I've ever called home. He smells like safety when I'm away, like the salt of my tears, like years of secrets, like a fellow solider. He is my prince charming, my king, my make believe hero and my real life companion.

Maybe I should have out grown the silly old bear. These days I don't stay up all night, keeping everyone else up, searching for the lost toy. I no longer cry or demand that the half hour trip from mom's house to dad's be made again so that I can sleep with my bedfellow. I don't fuss when he isn't near me when I wake up and I don't panic like I used to. But tonight, because I'm sick, and tired, and the world is still a big chaotic mess, I'm going to crawl into my big queen size grown up bed, in my one bedroom apartment, and before I set the alarm for my 14 hour day tomorrow to pay the bills, I'm going to snuggle with a great bear, and read him fairy tales. Read me fairy tales. Because life is easier when someone you love is always there.

Meet Duncan. He's pretty much the best guy I've ever known.