My Brown Bears

I was going through a bad patch several years ago when I found my first brown bear. I was the mother of a college student and a teenager, but the brown bear seemed essential to breaching some kind of gap. Call it a mid-life crisis. Call it separation anxiety –things were starting to change between Dean and I. Call it substitution. Whatever. I just knew when I looked at that bear, I needed it. It was more than I wanted to spend, so I bought the next size down. He was still cute, just smaller.

Time went by. On my birthday, a package arrived from my sister, and it was the bear I had originally intended to purchase. Later that year when I went back to KC to visit, I stopped back by the store and bought the last little bear. My bear family was complete. I suppose I was trying to recapture something that was lacking in my physical family. Kristen was in college, Brandon was finishing his high school education, and Dean was becoming more depressed and distant.

I had the bear family displayed in various areas around my home. Sometimes they lived in our bedroom, sometimes they lived in the living room. Sometimes I held them, and sometimes I let my nieces and nephews play with them. They were just a part of my house.

When I separated from my husband, my son and my bears came with me. It was a bad time. Brandon and I were facing the first Christmas without our family and we were trying to keep our positive attitude. One day Brandon came home on a cloud. He was very secretive and very excited. On Christmas day, he brought out a small package and inside was a little baby bear that matched my other bears. I couldn’t believe it. Then Brandon said, “Wait, Mom!” He picked up a huge box. “Here, you need to open this.” He was beaming. Inside the box was a jumbo bear! It was the poppa bear to all the other bears. I know that bear had to weigh 50 pounds. Brandon found him one day and saved and saved his money to buy it for me for Christmas. It was the perfect gift at the perfect time.

Now, four years have gone by. The divorce is over. My daughter and son are now married and have children of their own. And I still have my bears. Sometimes it hurts to look at them because I am reminded of when my family used to be together, of the sadness when things began to change; however, I can’t help but smile when I look at the jumbo bear. He is a big, proud poppa watching over the apartment and his family. My cat tolerates him but he quietly stares her down. (wink)

I think the fairy tale story needs a new title: Silverlocks and the five bears. And her cat. Meow.