September 17, 2016 - 11:38
Most kids have a favorite stuffed bear or doll; I, on the other hand, had a favorite stuffed gingerbread man. His name was (is? He's still around) Ginger. Ginger and I did everything together, from being forced to wear tights on Easter to sitting in the shopping cart while Mom got groceries. Needless to say, Ginger and I were tight. Since I am an only child, Ginger acted as my little brother. I would pile up books on a kitchen chair so he could eat dinner with us. I would bring him for show-and-tell at school. He would come to friends' houses to have playdates with other stuffed animals (his best friend was my friend Christie's Piglet). Sometimes I would sneak him in my backpack so he could come to school with me. My favorite thing to do, however, was read to Ginger. Every day after preschool, I would come home, gather up Ginger and all his friends (including Snowman, who is here at Bryn Mawr with me), and read with them. I usually had no idea what the books said, since I was virtually illiterate at that stage in my life, but we would look at books together, and it would make me happy. Once I got older, I would actually read to them, asking them for their opinions on the crazy antics Arthur was getting into, and imagining a response. They kept me company; they listened to me and loved me unconditionally, like any sibling would.
Now, as my mom sends me more than enough photos of me with my animals (although snowpeople and gingerpeople aren't technically animals), I feel really nostalgic and comforted, but at the same time, a little lonely. I have friends now, and I had friends then, but I realize that most of my childhood was spent playing with stuffed animals, and not with other kids. At birthday parties, I would always be the one to hang out with the parents, finding more in common with them than with those my age. I am a really extroverted, social person now, especially with people my age, so what changed? When it became "abnormal" to play with toys, was I forced to socialize with those around me? If play weren't discouraged and replaced by work, would I still surround myself with stuffed animals and not with people? What I realize, now, is that while the time I spend with my peers has increased exponentially from when I was a little cutie toting around a stuffed Christmas cookie, I still allow myself time to return to that child-like state most lose. I brought Snowman, my first Christmas present as a child, to college with me. We take Snapchats on the regular. Last night we watched Great British Baking Show together. Snowman and Kate's cracy Friday night. While I chose to leave Ginger at home, I always keep my childhood spirit in me, and for that, I am grateful for the experience I had as a child. It's like The Polar Express. Just as most adults in the story can't hear the bell, and don't believe as they did as a child, I still hear the bell, by refusing to be afraid to stay childlike in spirit and heart. Snowman is a character in my life's story, just as Ginger is, and just as all my friends, past and present, are, and there is no shame in that. I carry with them memories, and a whole lot of love, and that's enough for me.
