Blueberry

I have a stuffed animal named Blueberry. He is my most prized, most important, most loved possession. I have had this blue bear since I was 4 years old. My father won him for me at a fair. Blueberry used to have a little gold ring on the top of his head from which he hung with the other prizes. I cut it off to show that he was no longer a thing to be displayed. When I got this bear it was almost as big as me. Its fur was the softest thing I had ever felt.

Growing up, Blueberry was my brother and my best friend. I took him everywhere, and did everything with him. He is soaked with so many tears, the cause of so many smiles.

When I was about 12, Blueberry got rips in his armpits. Around that time I had gotten a couple build-a-bear stuffed animals. For build-a-bears, you select a cloth heart that is put into the stuffing. I loved that. So I cut a piece of cloth into a heart and wrote something on it. I don’t remember what it was, but it was important. I stuffed the cloth heart into Blueberry’s chest before I asked my dad sew his armpits back up. I was much gentler with my blue friend when from then on. He was getting old.

I cannot express how much I love this bear. Blueberry is sacred to me. I love his crooked nose. I love that his fur has fallen in such a way that he always looks angry. I love his shade of blue. I love his name.

I look at Blueberry and I feel good. I remember who I am, what I mean. There is a place in my heart that is carved out in the perfect shape of Blueberry. If there is a fire at my home, my priorities go boyfriend, cat, Blueberry.

Sometimes I wonder what will happen to Blueberry as I grow older. I can never give him away. No one else can appreciate everything that he is. I could never throw something so magnificent and important in among objects which will never be given a second thought. It feels wrong, it feels disrespectful. For everything that this bear has done for me, and meant to me, it feels important to honor him with a place in my home.

Maybe it is silly to feel so deeply for an inanimate object, but I don’t care. A part of me, conditioned by society, feels ashamed to be so attached to a ‘security blanket’ toy at my age. But there is an even bigger part of me that says fuck society. I have a personal mythology, and Blueberry is a part of it, no one will ever take that away from me.