Me, in A Blue Bow

These bows we wear are dusty blue, a rather deep pale blue crape. One on your head, you’re a girl. One around your neck, you’re a boy. Our soft furry bodies are the color of coffee with cream, and we each have a white tummy in the shape of a heart. Our eyes are deep blue shiny buttons and our mouth, blue stitching. We are really all alike, bears or rabbits. All except Dexter, whose bow, stitching and buttons are bright red. How we hate him, for he may break a child’s heart some day.

Our owners are human, of course. That is, once their owners buy us. We are to be loved and cherished by the youngest of them, for they are the only ones who can really see us for what we are, which are beings to be fiercely loved and prayed to; the first and last of all childhood totems and idols.

It is always bad if there might be animals in the house. A dog might take us and we would end up in the yard, missing an eye or a limb, and thus be discarded and lost to our destiny. Or a cat might mark us, and we would be disdained by our owner or their keepers, to suffer a similar fate.

In either event, it does not matter much. Our young owners might be touched and tainted soon enough by a parent, teacher or relative, and their childhoods be forever abandoned to disappointment, hatred and rage; as we will be abandoned too.

This is the end of the world, you see, so we know our time is short and our chances few. One or two of us might be given to a child who has true faith, and they would never outgrow that, regardless of what happens to them. They were the lucky ones, and so would we be, who hopes in our tiny heart of hearts to find one of them to give them a tiny bit of comfort and hope to their brief lives.

Since it is the end of the world, our young charges are largely illiterate, and their schools places of sham learning, where nothing is taught and less is learned, so our young owners might eventually become gang or war leaders, or canon-fodder, servants or slaves. For it is the end of freedom too.

How could I know all this? Old Jake, the marionette told us about the long ago and how the world was, when it was sweet and wholesome, and our owners were wise and learned, as well as kind and good. For that was the age when we were invented, you see. We could scarce believe him, but his stories are as those of Heaven to come, where we will be reborn and share our lives with those who never die, and whose faith is in a God of love and not in a demon god of hate and revenge.

So this is me, in the blue bow. When you see me, spend the small fortune to buy me and take me home, please. Perhaps I will end up on a shelf somewhere in quiet peace, with an adult owner who is trying to remember. Or better yet, with a young child who believes in me, and who will allow me to love them and be their protector for a time. Who knows? Perhaps together we shall dream of a world of light and love, and overcome this present world of darkening loss and fear.

Remember me.

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