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.


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