I’m an only child. For many years, I was also the only grandchild. I lived a very sheltered life. At least until we moved out of Hoboken when I was seven. Until then, I had almost no interaction with children my own age outside of school. My friends were often inanimate objects. I had stuffed animals and a bookcase full of statues that I talked to all the time. I know, strange kid, right?
I’ve been home for a few weeks, recovering from foot surgery. Since I was stuck in the house, we decided it was a good time to have some work done. We had the downstairs popcorn ceilings removed, refinished and painted. It made a mess. So we’ve been slowly trying to clean up. Tonight, I worked on the china closet in the dining room.
On the bottom shelf, I found an old friend I had forgotten about, Beauregard. I had breakfast with Beauregard every morning for the first seven years of my life. I drank milk and later tea with lots of milk from him. He was the son of Elsie the cow and Elmer of Elmer’s glue fame. I credit him with my life long love of cows. We had many long, deep conversations.
As I held him and looked fondly on his shy smile and curly forelock I thought of how resilient children are. They can make friends with a cup.