My longest, bestest friend is Mr. Bear. He’s the bestest friend a gal could ask for.

Even after 23 years, he’s been there for me through thick and thin.

You heard me right, 23 years.

I first got Mr. Bear in 1987 as a present from my parents. I moved to America from India, when I was 3 years old, and the first Christmas the year after we moved, my parents got my sister and me each the Sears bear. Might not seem like a huge deal, but I don’t remember any other toys I ever had, so this was pretty exciting!

He’s pretty beat up, too if you can tell. I took him with me every where.

He knows all my secrets, all my fears, everything. I’ve cried on him more time than I can remember when times were rough, and he has scratches on his nose when I threw him across the room a few times when I was angry. :-\ Sorry, Mr. Bear. I’ve never washed him, either. I know that’s kind of gross, but I always thought that if I washed him, I’d wash away all those memories.

Yup. Mr. Bear is the best. I won’t ever get rid of him, and I won’t ever wash him (you can continue to gag if you want :-P). No matter what happens, I know I can count on him to be there.