Nostalgia and Pooh Bear

While thrift store shopping yesterday I found something that was priceless. It wasn't some trinket worth millions. In my bargain hunting mode, I scanned the shelves looking for useful things or things that I could resell. My eyes stopped and fixated on something in the toy aisle,and instantly time reversed for me and stood still. I was taken back to two years old, me and my best buddy, running circles around the coffee table, thrilled cartoons were on. It wasn't a sibling or a childhood friend. It was my huge stuffed Pooh Bear that was approximately the same size as me at the time. I know growing up in California, everyone was Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. Not me, it was all Pooh bear for Me.
Despite my mother's unheeded warnings, we rounded the coffee table that one last time and Pooh and I got tangled.I remember falling, I don't remember anything else until coming back from the Emergency room with three stitches where my teeth went through my bottom lip when I hit the corner of the coffee table, just as mother said I would.  I still never let that Pooh bear leave my side, despite my injuries. Stubbornly I held onto him. I am not sure exactly when I stopped carrying him around, but as I saw almost the identical bear in the store, I knew I had to have it.
I'm not sure why people tie memories to items, or to food, or smells. I just know last night, a grown 34 year old woman slept with that huge stuffed Pooh Bear and felt like comfort just like when she was 2 years old again. I touched the scorpion shaped scar on my chin, and hugged my bear. I know it was silly. But I didn't care.I know that bear will not leave my room...and my children will not steal him. It's one of the few times I remember being truly happy.
Even though that day we came back from my ordeal and I sat in my booster chair, thirsty, and my mother not thinking poured me a glass of orange juice. Fresh stitches in your mouth and orange juice..why not stick a hot poker in my eye mom? I remember the pain of that. Now it's a funny story. Not so much for my mother, she thought my face was going to fall off with all the blood there was at the time, but for me. I don't remember the trauma so much, as I remember that bear.

It explains to me why sometimes, a grown woman would pay over a hundred dollars for a Strawberry Shortcake doll that was vintage, or a baseball card of a certain player. It doesn't matter the actual value of what that item is worth because it comes down to the memories tied to it, like a bookmark in our hearts that we can flip to every time we see that item. It makes them priceless. It brings a little of our past that wasn't so bad into our present, and possibly allows us to share those memories with others to be passed on for as long as someone holds the story in their hearts. These things are more than possessions. I've lost everything I own several times in my life, but some things you can never replace. For me, this bear was replaced and  with the memories that came, happiness was restored. May Nostalgia live on in each of us for ever.