I won. (Second place)
I won second place in the Young Writers Association writing contest for my age group. The theme was Things. Awesome. I’m trying not to break out in a rash of exclamation points, but..!!!
Here is the thing I won with:
Pooh Bear stands for comfort. He stands for bedtime, for sleep. I’ve never read the original Pooh stories. I don’t really care about him as a character. And I think that’s best, because imagining snuggling with the bear of very little brain would just be…weird. No, I prefer snuggling with the little cute undefined bear. The bear that represents Mom, since I have to be in my own bed. It’s a way of having the two things I want when I go to bed that don’t necessarily go together: comfort and solitude.
Pooh looks like…well, Pooh. He’s not very worn, because I’ve taken care of him, in a “he can’t come out of my room” sort of way, not in a crazy “pretending he has a cold and then nursing him” way. He smells like my bed and he smells like me. He’s furry, but only a bit. I’ve never licked him, and that’s definitely a good thing. And he fits perfectly in my arms. I don’t remember my first time with him, I just remember him always being there. We’ve lost him a few times, but he was always found in the end, although he was lost enough that we needed a “Hotel Pooh” as we called Pooh #2. Whenever we went to hotels, we used Hotel Pooh, hence the name. Hotel Pooh was never the same as regular Pooh, though. No other stuffed animal could replace Pooh.
If I were to lose Pooh, I’d be very unhappy. Even when he’s momentarily lost – under the bed or under the covers or something – I get sad. If I lost him, I would find the closest possible replacement, but it wouldn’t be the same. That’s why I’m making sure he’s never lost. If my friends were to find out about him, it might be a bit embarrassing at first, but I’d be okay. It would probably prompt them to talk about their bears, at least the girls. The boys would never admit it. It would probably be good in the end.
I know I’m not the only one who has a bear of some kind. I’m not the only one that would be sad if I lost it. In fact, I’m sure most people are like that. Only no one will admit it. Well, I will. And maybe you’ll read it and find you feel the same. And maybe get enough courage to admit it. And maybe realize that it’s not embarrassing. Not really embarrassing at all. But of course, maybe you won’t. And that’s okay too.
(Also, a classmate won second place in her age group!)