This was my childhood best friend, Yellow Bear (named in true child-obvious-fashion). He traveled everywhere with me - my first sleepover, my first camping trip, all family vacations, etc. His last trip with me was to college, but while I made it there, he did not.
To fit everything in the car, my dad added a cargo carrier on top, and we packed the clothes I wanted to hang in the closet in there along with my bedding and a new backpack, which contained my alarm clock, a new purse (a present from my sister), and Yellow Bear. We didn’t realize until we arrived at our destination, however, that the carrier hadn’t been secured properly. While the drive to my new college wasn’t that long (only an hour), the weather was miserable and, unbeknownst to us, the things we had packed in the carrier were slowly being pulled by the wind out of it and scattered behind us on the highway. I still think about the split second decision I made to put the backpack up there to save myself some leg room. I hate myself for it sometimes.
As my mom and I set up my room (while I periodically cried in my new, shared bathroom), my dad drove back down the highway and slowly (and most likely not safely) collected my scattered belongings. Amazingly, he was able to find every scrap of clothing and piece of bedding that we lost, but no backpack and no Yellow Bear. My dad felt awful, and I tried so hard to make sure he didn’t blame himself, but I’m sure my tears weren’t super convincing in fighting his guilt. I feel bad about that too.
During breaks in orientation, my dad came back to get me and (in better weather, thank god) we scoured the sides of the highway looking for the backpack, but to no avail. My mom put an ad in the paper asking for his return and even contacted the highway mowing services so they would keep an eye out for him. (My parents are truly lovely people.) Yellow Bear, unfortunately, remained lost and we could only assume someone found the backpack with its other free contents and kept him.
All through college, I would periodically check local Goodwills to see if someone donated him, though I’ve since heard that most donated stuffed animals don’t even make it into stores, and now both I and my family have moved away from the area. I still tear up when I think of him and how I felt losing him. My sister still has her childhood stuffed rabbit, Little Bunny (we were a creative lot), and it’s hard not to be jealous when I see him. I’ve had other toys over the years of course, but I would give them all up, would have lost all the clothes and bedding my father found, for him.
Thank you, Yellow Bear, for being such a good companion to me. I’m sorry we didn’t get to say goodbye.
