Chapter 1: Why a Bear?

On a bright, sunny day a woman walked down the street, enjoying the smell of the market and the gentle breeze. She was pondering to herself how she should spend her day when her thoughts were interrupted by a cry. Laughter followed, and so she followed the laughter, her body moving of its own accord.

 

Down the side street, and into a secluded commons the cruel laughter of children grew louder. Beneath the chorus, the sobs of the one they tormented grew quieter. Suddenly, her voice rang out, loud and clear as a schoolmarm "And what is going on here?!" The words put an end to the laughter, and the air was filled with the bustle of feet as the tormentors fled.

 

Without their laughter, the gentle sniffling of one little girl could be heard, growing slightly louder as she uncurled from her ball, and pulled her face from the well worn and thoroughly repaired bear in her hands. The woman approached, her voice filled with honey and love as she spoke. "There there little one, they're gone now. No need to cry, I'll get you a snack from the market."

 

Yet as the girl stood, it became clear to the woman what was the matter. The arm of the bear was in one hand, while the rest of the bear was in another. "I see I see, well why don't I fix that for you then? I have a needle and thread in my purse, it won't take a moment." But to her dismay, the girl only cried more!

 

"But I don't WANT to have to fix her again! She keeps getting torn, and hurt, and dirty, and it's all my fault! I don't want her to keep getting hurt... I don't want her getting any more ugly lines because the stitching wasn't right, or miss-matched patches because we don't have the right fabric... She's such a good bear and she deserves a good owner that can take care of her!"

 

The woman adjusted her dress, and took a seat on the ground, pulling out her sewing kit as she spoke. "Come now, take a seat and I'll tell you a little story as I do the repairs." Despite what the girl had said, she couldn't resist the offer, and so soon she sat as the woman began to repair the toy.

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"Do you know why we give these bears to children? Most have forgotten now, and think of them simply as toys..." The girl shook her head, and the woman carried on. "They were guardians. They were made in the shape of mother bears, so that they might defend their children with all the ferocity of one. The story goes that they would guard their children from all that lurked in the night, and the forces of fortune and fate that sought to bring them harm."

 

The woman paused, letting the idea linger in the air as she continued to stitch. "But these guardians are not invincible, and so they pay a price each time they guard their child. A tear here, a mark there, perhaps even a lost eye if the foe was fierce enough." The little girl looked at the bear's miss-matched eyes, and the woman knew she was recalling what had happened to require the replacement. "But you know, it is in their nature to protect those they love, and all they ask in return is that their loved one is well... Did those children hurt you?"

 

The girl sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "N-no..." The woman smiled. "Then I'm sure your bear is pleased. They aren't like us, it doesn't hurt them to lose an arm. What hurts them is seeing us cry." The girl sniffles, trying to fight back the tears. "B-but s-she's got all these dumb patches and... and weird lumps and stuff! She must hate looking all... all messed up!"

 

The woman chuckled, pausing her work to pat the girl's head. "To a bear, those are marks of pride. Each one is a memory of a time she was able to protect you, and a reminder that you loved her enough to fix her up. Each patch and miss-placed stitch shows the rush you were in to fix her, proof of your love and appreciation. What bear could hate the evidence of such warm feelings?"

 

The woman took her time, and made sure each stitch was carefully placed, as the little girl watched and thought about the story she'd been told. Once the repair was done, and the bear returned, the woman began to leave, only to stop and turn to give one last piece of advice. "From now on, don't cry because she's been hurt, thank her for protecting you, and when one day it's time to let her go... Send her off with all the love you can."

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