THE BEAR WHO WAS THERE
By the time the bear lost its remaining eye, no one could recall the original colour.
At first, of course, the bear had been perfect. Soft fur, neat stitches, no stains. It arrived wrapped carefully in pale tissue, a ribbon tied just right. Exactly the kind of thing a child would be delighted by for a day, then set aside.
But this bear was different. For reasons no one fully understood, it stayed. Forever.
The child carried it everywhere, tucked under an arm, dragged by a foot, held tight through troubling dreams. Slowly, quietly, the bear began to change. Seams loosened. Stuffing shifted unfortunately. Then an eye fell off.
There were frequent interventions from the parents. Many attempts at replacements. Something new, unstained, less creepy. But the child refused.
Eventually, the other eye.
The operation happened late at night, under a single rainbow lamp. A needle trembled in uncertain fingers. Two buttons fixed urgently, the donor unknown and unimportant.
When the surgery was done, the bear’s new eyes were too big, mismatched, and very round. From that moment forward, it wore a permanently startled expression, as though it had just witnessed something it could never quite comprehend.
In the years that followed, the bear continued to startle everyone but the child.
Yet it remained.
The bear was never special in any obvious way. Far from it. It didn’t speak or glow or wet. But it had been there. Always. It had listened quietly to whispered secrets. It had been lost and desperately found so many times that being found had become its identity.
And somehow, it always returned. Looking almost as surprised as the child’s parents.
When she grew up, the bear moved out with her. Even now, it sits prominently on a shelf in her home, watching visitors with that permanently startled expression.
We don’t choose what stays. We just hold on. And some things hold back. Stories gather around them. Memories sink into their seams.Significance is something gained quietly.
Make some memories,
The Ironclad Co.
