‘T’ is for ‘Teddy’
This is Teddy.
He lives on my bed, comfortably nestled beside the green velvet cushion. He’s the only childhood toy I’ve kept.
The ritual of making the bed every morning gives me a sense of order and control in my world, and for the day to come. When it’s Teddy’s moment to be settled in his spot, I hold him first, tenderly, in the same way I used to hold Yaramin when she was a baby. I cradle his head in my hand, and I nuzzle my forehead to the bridge of his nose. A “namaste”, and a promise to hold him dear, because I have imbued him with my heart; from a time when I was too small to understand that I needed tenderness.
Teddy is the lotus on my altar…a daily meditation; a few moments to connect with the two-year-old me that still recoils in the presence of vulnerability – my own, or anyone else’s. This daily pause for connection is manna for my soul. Decades-old wounds finally have a witness. And so I become beloved in my own heart.
Teddy can hold my heart for me, because he was there, back then. And I can hold him.
I imagine there may come a day when I can leave the bed unmade. With Teddy snuggled in the rumpled blankets.
Subscribe to this Blog