So...I guess I owe ya'll a story. Don't worry, I will eventually tell them all. In fact, I think I will give readers a choice of random life stories each Friday and then do the winning post each Monday. Since the story of my purple squirrel head was mentioned several times, I will start there...
His name is Pockets. I realized as I thought about writing this post that only my family really knows about Pockets. I have never told any of my friends. Why? I don't know...maybe I was afraid they would think I was crazy (not that they don't have enough clues already), or maybe it's just that he's always just been my special, secret treasure and I wanted to keep it that way. So, it is strange to me to actually be talking about him now and even revealing a picture of him.
All I know is that Pockets materialized at my maternal grandparent's house somewhere in the 1950's. My mom, uncle and grandparents always remember him being around, but none of them remember where he came from or how he came to be. There are no words or markings on him that give any clues.
I claimed him as my own before I could even walk, named him "Pockets" and loved him with all my heart. Throughout the years my uncle and brother would tease me by grabbing Pockets from me and throwing him around, throwing him up against the wall, etc. One day, Pockets eye fell off from being slammed against the wall and I bawled my eyes out until my grandpa expertly glued the eye back on.
Because of the serious abuse he suffered at the hands of my evil uncle and brother, Pockets spent most of his life in secret hiding places that only I knew about. Well, that is until Christmas day when I was about 24 years old. I opened a gift from my brother only to discover POCKETS!!! He had found my hiding place and wrapped him up to prove that Pockets would never be safe anywhere. I panicked!!! It was at this time that I decided that Pockets needed to move from my grandparents house and stay closer to me at all times, where he still is today.
My grandparents have since both passed away and I think my brother and uncle are past the point of wanting to torture Pockets, but I still keep him hidden away as my special little treasure.
Jul 20, 2009
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5 comments:
what is it with brothers torturing their sister's stuffed animals? thanks for sharing this story!
p.s. pockets is cute!
Too cute!
I once woke up (around age 9, maybe?) to find that my brother had placed all his pocket knives in my dollies' hands - as though they had surrounded me and were just about to cut me to pieces. He thought it was soooooo funny.
YOU WIN. Still have pockets! You have fought hard all of your life!
What a story. I loved it.
I love this idea! Can't wait to read more of your stories.
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