One personal goal while home was to scan baby photos. The project was a success and not as painstaking as it might sound. I’d forgotten how gratifying it is to stare at photos of oneself.
While scanning, I noticed a stuffed white pup that recurred in several pics. I mentioned him to my mom and thus began the easiest domestic search-and-rescue mission to date. Within 30 minutes he was in my hands. No fainting spells in an un-insulated attic, no cobwebs, no ghosts.
His name is Snowy.
We share a lot, if you'll notice. Both minimal, bleak, and quiet, fate brought us together. And he served an important role in early childhood. Except when he didn’t.
Although he was snuggled...
He was also easily cast aside when battery-operated vehicles were introduced...
But these ups and downs only confirm the authenticity of our relationship. Because not even Snowy, with his understated elegance, marshmallow-y head, and seen-it-all wisdom could save me from myself.
Here’s the end of my second Christmas—the day we met!—which STILL ended in frustration, pouting, and sartorial upheaval.
It's good to have you back, Snow!