For Pete's Sake

I didn’t set out to feel nostalgic today—just cleaning up my Google Photos since it's year end—when I came across this image from more than five years ago, likely taken somewhere in the haze of the pandemic. 

It doesn’t feel that far away, and yet everything is different. My little boy isn’t so little anymore.

This worn, well-loved bear was once his entire world. He couldn’t sleep without it. It was comfort, routine, safety. Each night, an army of stuffed animals stood guard around him, but this bear always held the front line, pressed right against his face while the rest protected the perimeter.

Then, last year, he asked, “Dad, can I move into the bigger room?” His voice cracked just slightly—enough to signal the shift. “Sure,” I said. “Want help breaking down the bed?” “Nope. I got it.”

My boy moved into his new room, and his army of stuffies was packed away in a suitcase, his beloved bear included. Just like that!

Why don't we go, somewhere only we know.