My Book Babies

My Book Babies
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Monday, 12 October 2015


When I was very small, I had just one prized possession; my little stuffed bunny, cederick. He wasn't the fluffiest, or the biggest or the softest bunny in the world, but he was mine, I owned him, and, at a time when I didn't own anything much, that was important. Shunted from foster family to biological family to care home, round and round, losing people and objects along the way, only cederick was my constant.
As a tiny tot I was afraid of adults. They were big and scary and they hurt you. I didn't trust them. But then my foster mum gave me cederick and told me if I couldn't tell the grown ups when things were making me sad, I could tell cederick. So I did.
You know how sometimes when you go into a building,  you can feel it has a soul of its own? All the love and joy and pain and hopes and dreams of the people who live there get absorbed by by the stones until the house has its own spirit, a welcome or unwelcome vibe. Cederick was like that. All my darkest secrets, all my tears, all my fears, he absorbed them all. You'd think that would make him a mean sort of a bunny, but it didn't.  Cederick was loving, protective and kind. We hid from the bad guys together, both real and imagined, he sat on my shoulder while I read fairytales about people who grew up and escaped their tormentors. When I finally grew up and became free he came with me.
Many years later, when searching my house for gift ideas for someone I thought to be very special and in great need of comfort, I found cederick. It had been years since I wiped tears away with his ears. I covered him in kisses, wrapped him up nice and sent him to the friend in need.
I regretted it as soon as I sent him, but what can you do? You can't ask for a gift back, and anyway, that person needed him. I felt sure I would be reunited with him one day. It's silly, I know he is a stuffed toy, but I still feel guilty that I gave him away, and I hope he knows I love him. I would hate for him to feel unloved, even if he is just a tatty teddy bunny.
I fell out with the friend. Never saw my cederick again. But I hope wherever he is now, he is loved. I hope he gets cuddles and stories and closeness still. I hope, despite his head being stuffed with fluff instead of brains, that he remembers somehow that I loved him, cherished him, and bitterly regret giving him away. I hope wherever he is now, he is easing someone's pain like he eased mine, and that that person knows how very special he is. He was all I had, he contained all my love, and I passed him on to someone who needed him more than me.
I have people to cuddle when I am sad now. I'm no longer afraid to tell a human when I am hurting. I guess I don't need him anymore. But love is about so much more than need, isn't it? Maybe one day he will find his way back to me. Maybe not. Maybe he will outlive me by many years, bringing comfort to children who need him. I think he would like that. Wherever he is now though, I hope he remembers I loved him first.
He will always be my bunny, whoever holds him.

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