As you can probably surmise from the significant amount of time that has passed since my last post, I've been seriously blocked when it comes to writing about my life and about cancer. I really want to, and thoughts about what I want to write are constantly swirling around in my head, but when it comes to actually putting those thoughts on the page, nothing comes out.

To shake things up, I did a virtual writers' workshop through Gilda's Club tonight, and I'm so glad I did. Creative writing has never been my forte, though I'd love to do more of it. Tonight was at least a good little nudge in that direction. I also realized that I'm terrified of sharing my writing (especially reading it out loud). I forced myself to do that with the group tonight, even though I had to struggle to control my voice.

I hate being afraid of things. There actually aren't that many things that scare me, so tonight was unexpected. But I made myself read my writing out loud, and I'm glad I did. And in the spirit of not being afraid, I'm sharing what I wrote here, too (plus a couple pictures for visual aids).

The workshop revolved around the things we have in our houses (since we've been staring at them so much, what with quarantine and all) and the emotions they evoke in us. I wrote a lot of things about a lot of my travel souvenirs, but I also wrote the following little bit about a special object that was sitting right next to me. I hope you enjoy it.

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My Oldest Friend

 

The winter of 1977 – I remember it only from photos. A tiny, white-haired girl sitting in front of a Christmas tree, offering her baby bottle to the camera. Next to her is a brand new brown teddy bear, fresh out of the box and almost as big as she is.

 

The summer of 2020 – The pair is still together, both a little worse for the wear. The brown bear, uncreatively named Brownie Bear when she was just a tot, resembles his former self in little other than his brown color. His fur is matted beyond repair. Patches of different colored thread can be seen where he has come apart over the years and been sewn back together. The tiny girl is now a woman, dwarfing her bear companion in size. But she, too, has come apart and been sewn back together since they first met, both figuratively and literally. Battered but not broken, the girl and her bear continue on, wondering what comes next in this crazy life.