This is my Paddington bear:
Paddington has been with me through everything.
One of my first memories, something that sits in that strange “maybe I was four or five” area of my life, is of sitting in a field crying, holding onto my Paddington and pulling at the felt of his now long-gone parka. I don’t know what I was crying about, but Paddington was there to help me through it.
When I went through the phase of putting away all of my toys, I couldn’t bring myself to put away Paddington. He was too dear to me.
During the jean jacket fad, I made a jean jacket for Paddington with the leg of an old pair of jeans. Sure, it was more of a jean vest, but it got the job done.
Paddington survived the fire, and for that I am grateful. My mother-in-law cleaned him and stitched a couple of holes he had developed, and now he sits on my bureau next to the Paddington I bought in London and the small cat my friend Rose made for me.