Current mood: animated
I don't love you I'm just passing the time
You could love me if I knew how to lie
But who could love me?
I am out of my mind
Throwing a line out to sea
To see if I can catch a dream
~ "She Had the World" by Panic at the Disco
So a few weeks ago, I picked up my sister to go shopping. She opens the passenger door and says, "Why is Kyle in the front seat?. . . well, he is moving to the back seat!" This gave me a fit of giggles. You see, Kyle is a stuffed dog/bear (cannot be properly identified) that I have had since high school. He was a gift. I named him after my math tutor (and crush flavor of the week) my sophomore year. He was in my car because Elizabeth uses him as a pillow sometimes. He's really quite soft!
But this brings me to my inability to part with stuffed animals. I don't sleep with them or display them in my room. They are stored in my closet, with very little ceremony. Yet, my emotional attachment supercedes my desire to live simpler. In fact, mi madre was in Fort Worth helping me move and she wanted to get rid of some of them. There we were, on the floor of the guest room, surrounded by piles of stuffed animals. Her only rule was "if you cannot remember its name, it gets donated. . ." Fair enough!
She started holding up animals as I identified them:
"Balthazar"
"Kyle"
"Brian Boru"
"Lambie"
"Princess Alexandra"
"um. . . um. . . damnit. That one can go."
"Baggio"
And so on. . . until half the animals were in a pile to keep. I even got rid of a few that had names, since space was limited. But it was a painful parting. I used to not be able to sleep without holding onto something – on school and church trips, I would be too embarrassed to bring a stuffed animal, so I'd sleep with a bundled up sweat shirt. But now, with the exception of Ebie and Gracie, I try to be a big girl and sleep alone.
Y'all can laugh if you want! It's fine! I am no longer embarrassed, as I realize that my emotional attachment is to the memories each one stores within it. And memories are good things to hold onto.
Don't you think?
PERSONAL NOTE: I wish I were at your house – watching the windows be installed! Seriously!
