Coffee, Conversation, and Broken Bears

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Do you ever have these reoccurring memories? Times in your life that just keep playing back? There isn't anything special about them, or at least not anything that you notice, but you just seem to always find yourself back there?

 In my head, I'm back at my Aunt Nora's house. I must be around 7 years old. 

Mom and Aunt Nora are in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and gossiping about the latest drama that's occurred amongst their group of friends.  This is a weekly thing with them. Coffee and conversation. In my 7 year old mind, none of this matters. Grown up things are insignificant. Most anything is insignificant if I'm being honest.

I stand by myself in the living room, eyeing Aunt Nora's collection of tiny, porcelain bear figurines. They're all wearing little shirts with their names on them. Each bear is to represent a member of the family. They all sit happily, snuggly fit on a small couch...all except for one. 

I find my bear, sitting, staring at me. He's alone. Not with the rest of the family like he's supposed to be. The name Oliver is carved into his small shirt.

He smiles back at me with his black, teddy bear button eyes, as if he's happy to be alone. I find it quite pathetic that he is, that I am...happy to be alone, that is. 

Disgusting. I knock my bear to the floor and watch as he shatters.

If only I could do that to myself.

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⏰ Last updated: Aug 15, 2015 ⏰

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