Delayed Thursday Post...

My laundry would soon be complete, and I begrudgingly searched for my discarded dungarees and hastily pulled them up. I was adorned in my sweat stained white T shirt, and my hair was tasseled and held askew with a sweat. My appearance matched my mood, tired, aloof, and disheveled.

I had to go get the laundry and haul it back upstairs for a vigorous ironing and folding session. I decided I may as well go ahead and throw some crap out since I have to go down stairs. It would save my self a trip up and down from the third floor. After collecting various items that had fulfilled their purpose, I decided to throw them in a trash bag and descended the steps, bound for the dumpster.

Coming out of the building a moth buzzes frantically near the entry light, appearing to exude irritation. The moth of course is just doing what it what moths do. I’m not quite certain what exactly that is, the frantic nature of the moth. Perhaps they are desperately trying to acquire something just out of reach. Perhaps the light is an imagined foe, something so vile that it must repeatedly attack it, with the only means that it has. Maybe it is simply mesmerizing, an addictive high, and the moth twitches with sheer ecstasy repeatedly slamming into the luminescence, experiencing titillating pleasure. I’m sure that I could Google the actual cause; however it probably wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or romantic as the various imagined ideas I may have.

When my attention is directed away from the moth, I look straight ahead at the dumpsters. Wedged in between the two dumpsters was a plush large teddy bear looking very sad and alone.

Now it is really sad the irrational thoughts that a foolish plush bear can put in your head. I couldn’t help but wonder how it got there, and why it didn’t actually make it into the dumpster.

I imagined a rotten parent punishing their child for some misdeed. The little girl crawls out of bed at night fearful for her companion. She looks out at the bear, which is adorned with a patriotic bow tie. The bear’s sad, dark, eyes have the uncanny ability to take on the emotion that one imagines it might be feeling. The little girl sees her own fear reflected in the glimmer of the incandescent light.

Another scenario: The bear was a gift from an ex, and it was stashed there symbolically. When the ex-boyfriend drives into the parking lot to try and repair a broken relationship, the first thing that will catch his eye was the giant bear he won for his former love on a beautiful day at the amusement park, and his heart fills with pain and despair.

My favorite scenario is simply that the owner can’t make themselves put the bear in the trash. There is something about those open arms, those big eyes, and plush fur that just calls out “love me… please?” The owner knows that it is just stitching and polyester, however it is just too difficult to see the demise of this lovable toy. With hope in their heart, they wedge the bear between the dumpsters hoping that someone else will see what they see. Perhaps someone will take the bear and wash it, and then give it to a child so it can be loved again.

With this sentimental thought in my mind I return to the apartment building and finish up my laundry.

It will be a busy weekend, and I’ll need my rest.