Teddy, my Teddy

As I walk up the stairs to the attic, I call out to Jared, “Are you sure you want me to go through it?” “Yes, honey bun”. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. He knows that I hate those cutesy nicknames, and he knows that I secretly hate the attic. Except, I would never admit to the latter, so his way of teasing me with my irrational fear, is to call me stupid cute names. He’s so stupid, I smile to myself.

Standing on the last step before I am officially in the attic, I think this is not so bad, while I shudder, and curse myself, Marie Kondo’s beautiful way of clearing your home and the local charity that has agreed to take our stuff. I steel myself and walk forward, just as a person that is definitely not scared of an attic would. As I look over the neat rows of boxes, all clearly labelled, I am for once grateful for Jared’s slightly neurotic tendencies. In our everyday life, it does annoy me that everything must be positively perfect, but it does come in handy when you do not want to spend more time than absolutely necessary in a storage attic. Okay, I must admit I also do enjoy the compliments we get for our home when we have guests over - and that just might have something to do with Jared. I catch myself smiling again.

I spot one of the boxes I am looking for, with a big label clearly stating, “WINTER CLOTHES 2020”. Had that box been opened last year, there is no way Jared wouldn’t have updated the label to “2021” and given that we are almost through this year’s winter, it really is time to get rid of it. Despite that, I still open the box and rifle through the clothes, just to check. It’s difficult to not get nostalgic when trying to get rid of stuff. It’s as if the knowledge of this being their last moments in my life, enhances every feeling, every memory attached to them. Maybe this jacket knows what’s about to happen and the enhanced nostalgia is a defence mechanism? Like a human pleading for its’ life by appealing to its’ captors’ humanity. I chuckle to myself while putting Jared’s old woollen peacoat, which still smells vaguely of his old perfume, back in the box.

Concluding that everything inside is good to go to charity, I close the box back up and carry it to the top of the stairs for Jared to take once I am done here. The fact that this clearing out was my idea, might make him insist that I do the sorting, but I know he won’t make me carry everything on my own. Looking back over the boxes, still filled with nostalgia, I have almost forgotten how much I hate the attic. Almost.

Spotting a box labelled “OLD HOUSE” I am surprised by how non-specific this label is for Jared and decide that this box will be my next victim. Lifting the box, I am surprised by how light it is. As I curiously open it up, I realise the reason for Jared’s uncharacteristic label. This box is filled with those pillows he hated. I had thought they were nice, and he had tolerated them for a while, but the irregular pattern had been driving him crazy, and now they live in a box, not even clearly labelled. It seems he has sentenced them to the cruellest fate he could think of. Before nostalgia hits again, I decide it is time for Jared to finally have true peace of mind and give this box away too. Just as I am about to close the box up, I notice something that sticks out. Something beige and fuzzy is peaking out between the boldly coloured satiny pillows. I lift the pillows and instantly, I am hit by a tidal wave of nostalgia, emotions, and memories. Hiding in this plain box is the embodiment of childhood memories. I pull out the fuzzy, used-to-be-beige, slightly patchy teddy, bury my nose in it, and inhale deeply with my eyes closed.

I am transported back to the forest behind my parent’s house. They always warned me to not run too far, or I might get lost. I always nodded, smiling like the good obedient girl I was. Little did they know that I knew that forest like no one else. It feels like I have spent most of my childhood in that forest, so full of nooks and hiding places that only I knew. Or, well… Almost only I. And this teddy... This teddy, with its brown- and iron-coloured spots, despite many washes still smells like my absolute favourite spot. It hadn’t always been my favourite, but with all the memories it had grown to become just that. I used to love the feeling of knowing that forest better than anyone else. I chuckle as I remember how I used to run around, with that endless energy children seem to have, making a mental map of “my” secret places in the forest. This spot had started off as just another one of those. A giant tree had fallen over during a wet period, the roots pulling up enough soil to create a small crater. I thought this was the coolest thing ever. As I walked closer to the crater to look down, the ground started to get mushy. Fearing it would create a mudslide and pull me into the crater, I backed up and decided that if I ever had to hide a treasure, this would be the place. Oh, childhood imagination, I think while I squeeze the teddy. Did he have a name? I must be getting old because I simply cannot remember. I look at him more carefully, his black beady eyes looking back at me. I’m sure he had a name... I try to recall when I got him.

It had been raining for almost a week, and I had been longing to get back to the forest and my secret places. So, on the first day of no promised rain, I had set off with my parent’s usual lecture on how far I could run, and my usual nodding with no intentions of adhering to their rules. I hadn’t gotten very far when I heard footsteps behind me. When I looked back, I had seen the neighbour’s annoying child. I warned not to follow me, since I was going to my secret places that no one else could know about. I walked on at a fast pace which I figured would ensure my solitude very shortly, since the child was several years younger and much slower than me. After walking quite a while, the footsteps finally disappeared, and I felt comfortable checking up on my secret treasure hiding place. When I got there, I saw that the crater had been half filled with water, and I made sure to walk a in big circle around it, so as to not fall into it. When I had walked around the crater I stood there, admiring the underside of the root that had created this crater. It looked so magical that I felt sure it must be cursed, and since I had found it, I had to be protected by it. As I was pondering the nature of this curse, I again heard annoying footsteps. As the neighbour’s child walked towards me, an anger that my secret spot had now been discovered, started to build in me. However, it didn’t take long before the anger was calmed by a reminder of the curse, and how I was so sure that the magic of this place would protect me. I watched as the child walked closer to me, saying all sorts of unintelligible things. Stuff about being lost and what I was supposed to do, but I was too focused on my own thoughts to really hear what it was. Suddenly, the mudslide that I had made sure wouldn’t happen to me, became a reality. And while this obviously wasn’t a meteor crater, it definitely was big and muddy enough to keep a small child there. I had smiled knowing that my secret place would remain secret. As I walked away, I heard something that sounded something like “… Teddy keep me safe …”

Teddy! There it was! Of course, the name was right in front of me, how silly. When I had gone back to my secret place a week later, I had found him close to the crater. He was so dirty, but he still reminded me of my secret place, and how it had helped me protect its secrecy. So, I had taken him home and had my mom wash him. The neighbourhood had been buzzing with an unusual amount of activity, so she had been too preoccupied to notice that she had not seen Teddy before. As a kid, I thought adults crying was one of the most annoying things in the world. There had been a lot of that in those days, so I had spent a lot of time alone in my room, getting well acquainted with Teddy.  Ever since, he has been with me, reminding me of my favourite spot in the forest and how I was special enough to be protected by it.

How did he end up with the pillows? For a brief moment, I wondered if Jared had put him there intentionally, but he knows how important Teddy is to me, and there’s no way he would have done that to a precious childhood memory. I put Teddy on the floor, close the box with pillows and put it down at the top of the stairs as I call out for Jared to take the boxes away. I look at him walking up the stairs, with his perfect jawline and his immaculate hair, that reminds me that his neurotic nature isn’t limited to the attic. As he grabs the first box he says, “Thanks sweet cheeks” and kisses my cheek. I turn back to go through more boxes, and as I see Teddy sitting on the floor, I can feel my fear of the attic slowly melt away, and I send a silent thank you to the beautiful “clearing your space” tv-show that had inspired this. It really does feel good to only keep the things that spark joy.