Secondly, go, research, listen, love. Come back when you're finished.
Ok, now onto the real purpose of this blog entry.
Growing up, we moved...a lot. No, my parents weren't in the military. No, they didn't move for their jobs. I really don't know why we moved all the times we moved. Some of it, I know, was because of my parents' divorce when I was 6 and my brother was 4 and all the separations and reunions before that. Before and after that, I couldn't tell you, but as a result of all that moving around, I have very few of my belongings from when I was young. I have memories of my long-lost belongings, but nothing onto which I can physically hold when I need comfort.
In the process of moving, I lost my beloved Dumbo with one missing ear, my red-headed Cabbage Patch doll, my pink bike (that was actually vandalized and destroyed by the boys who lived across the street from us while we were in the process of moving - yes, the same ones involved in my sexual assault - aren't they peachy?), my Monchhichi, and my most precious belonging of all - Snuggle.
You know Snuggle. He's the bear from the fabric softener commercial. My great-aunt saved up all her UPC codes to send in and surprise me with one. He was the love of my life from that moment on. He was who I clung to in the night. He was who I cried into when things hurt. He was who loved me unconditionally, comforted me always, and understood my woes when no one else even knew them. And then, one day, he was gone. And I never forgot him. Ever.
Skip ahead twenty years. I met the man who was to become my husband. I told him of Snuggle one day. It was a passing thought and a conversation to which I gave no more thought. Snuggle was long gone and existed now only in my memory. Evidently, my husband made note of the conversation and decided to heal the bear-shaped hole in my heart. Christmas morning of our first year together, I awoke to my own, new Snuggle bear. I sobbed. He's not a replacement - nobody could replace my Snuggle - but he's the next best thing and I love him.
Then we had our son. And as he grew, he found Snuggle. He adopted him. And he loves him. This brings me to my connection with Kenny Loggins. (You thought I forgot, didn't you?) He long ago wrote and recorded a song called "Pooh Corner" and then, after he had his children, he rewrote and rerecorded "Return to Pooh Corner." It goes a little something like this:
"Return to Pooh Corner"
Christopher Robin and I walked along
Under branches lit up by the moon
Posing our questions to Owl and Eeyore
As our days disappeared all too soon
But I've wandered much further today than I should
And I can't seem to find my way back to the Wood
So help me if you can
I've got to get back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
You'd be surprised
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh
Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do
Got a honey jar stuck on his nose
He came to me asking help and advice
From here no one knows where he goes
So I sent him to ask of the Owl if he's there
How to loosen a jar from the nose of a bear
Help me if you can
I've got to get back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
You'd be surprised
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh
It's hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives
After all's said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side
So I tucked him in, I kissed him and as I was going
I swear that the old bear whispered "Boy welcome home"
Believe me if you can
I've finally come back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
What do you know
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin
Back to the ways of Christopher Robin
Back to the days of Pooh
Snuggle, one of my few precious things, followed throughout all my life. And now, after all's said and done, I watch my son sleep there with my bear by his side and I swear that old bear whispers to him as he always whispered to me. We, we three, are home in each other.
(And here come my tears. I thought that maybe this would be the one time I'd be able to consider this story without tearing up. Nope. And that, too, warms my heart.)