From my journal...A day in May 2012
I watched Calvin, uncertainty with each step across the foyer as I stood propped up against his doorway, the sounds of Bear & the Big Blue House echoing in the background. I crossed my arms searching for a reason. A reason to explain why a short clip of my childhood had been triggered in that very spot. I remembered walking those same steps and looking back at my mother to see if I still had the freedom of getting my favorite bed time animal. He was black, with a pink nose and white tummy, filled with small plastic beads (which I discovered from playing too rough with my kitty). His tail had literal stitches hand sewn by fingers of a tired, overworked mother, my mother. I would lackadaisically carry him from any of his limbs. His fur was worn, not new and fluffy. His ears curled over a bit from the washer. The comfort and joy my kitty brought was unimaginable. And then, the two second memory fleeted, Calvin grabbed his tiger (Hobbs) and ran to my warm embrace Time for bed.