Beginnings Before A Beginning, And A Home

It seems to me, as perhaps to the bees in the trees, that an experience will become a thing of naught unless it is saved in a way that can be shared with others through a letter, a book, or something on parchment or paper. My friend, Owl who is wise and can read and write, has agreed to help me save mine through the work of writing. Basically, I'm telling him what to write, he writes it, but better than how I say it, and makes it more proper and understandable. I hope to share a smidgen about my time with each of my friends, such as Christopher Robin, Piglet, and all who live here in the hundred acre woods. As such, I shall tell a story about a time with each. 

But, before I go on to do so, I shall tell a tale of from where I came. I wasn't all together, you see, and I wasn't what you see now as me. Parts of me remember their origin, and other parts, not so much. 

 

Some of me remembers growing out of the ground and standing tall in a field, looking up at the sky, waving back and forth to the wind, basking in the golden rays of the sun above. It was a quiet and peaceful place, with many others like me. I didn't eat honey, though one day I did feed the bees. I would make food, and they would come visit me and tickle me as they buzzed about, as also would the butterflies. It made me happy to be able to share that food with the bees. Not long after I came up out of the ground, a person came and took me from my perch and placed me with more of me in a dark place. In this dark place we stayed until we made it to the place where we were going. 

 

A part of me also remembers migrating through another field far away from there. I would move about with a flock of others like me. I was growing of something that was already alive and came to a season of being taken from my host, then spun and woven in such a way as to make me of another form. 

 

But that is not all; I also recall a beginning where I was deep in the ground, being compressed by so much pressure, to the point of having no room to expand or in effect grow, but finding that under this pressure, I came to be more dense and grow in a different way than the others; I grew tougher and harder. One day, I was brought to the surface and washed ashore. I was among so many like me, and when the water would come and touch us, we would move, sometimes together, sometimes far apart. I was never with anyone for a very long time, that is until one day many of us were scooped up and removed from our home, and placed in a fire with others not like us. Things became very hot, so hot, it was like I went in to the sun, but before to long, I found myself bound to the others as if we were one. In fact, we were, as far as could be seen, that is, we could be seen through, like we weren't even there. Yet we were. 

 

I remember each of these to an extent, vaguely; they each exist in me from a faded form of existence, or rather, incidentally, I do not recall for sure of these things. I do remember my first time seeing, feeling, and experiencing this fluff and stuff in the existences which is present today. I was in a big building with a person holding me. They looked at me as I looked at them. I was placed in a box. I saw another one, such as me, in a box set next to the one I was in. We stared at one another, the other and me, and for a moment, I understood that I wasn't the only me. Then a man came and picked up my box, that is, the box that had me in it, which is the me that was in the other box. "This one is going to 221b Baker Street, in London aye?" the man said, "and what of that one?" staring at me he asked. Another man replied, "I don't know, somewhere in Sussex, within the Ashdown Forest." The other man picked up the box that I was found in—not the other me, but rather the me here—and off I went. I was in a dark place for a long time. There were several bumps and strange sounds. I believe that is when I first discovered the things that go bump in the night. With the odd sounds coming from without my box, I believe the man who picked up my box must have been fighting them off as best he could. The box would bump often should he be protecting me. By and by, there was one final thump, and the sounds appeared to drift away. 

 

It got rather quiet, other than new sounds that sounded more natural. But the sounds of the things that go bump in the night became far off in the distance, until I didn't hear it anymore. After what seemed to be quite some time, I found that my box was being moved with a little rustling, as though it were being lifted again for a moment, then placed down again, after which, the flaps on my box came open. A man peered in and looked at me. With a grin, he reached in and grabbed me, and placed me on the floor underneath a tree which was trimmed with rather wonderful things.

 

The next morning came, and soon a little boy came in to the room. Joy filled his eyes as he looked around at the things under the tree, followed not too far behind him, a little girl, I locked eyes with the little girl, and she locked eyes with me. A big smile grew on her face, as she picked me up and gave me a hug shortly after, only to find a tag tied to my arm which said, "To: Christopher Robin, Merry Christmas!" I saw the instant sadness that came to the little girl's face as she realized that I wasn't for her. The boy came to her and said, "That bear is for me!" but then, looking at her sadness, he followed with, "But you can play with him sometimes, Rosemary." The two children began to play with the toys from under the tree, including myself, with such delight. And that was my first encounter with my home.

 

I, over the coming days, was acquainted with many new friends whom Christopher Robin and Rosemary introduced me to. I met Kanga, her son Roo, Rabbit, Princess Di, Nurse McNair, Piglet, and many others. I was also introduced into the hundred acre woods, which is part of the five-hundred acre woods, which is in the Ashdown Forest. But the hundred acre woods is where we stayed and played. Some of us were primarily with Christopher Robin, and the others with Rosemary. 

 

So there I was, not as before, but rather as now, a bear of very little brain, full of stuff and fluff, knowing something of my beginning, or beginnings, or rather, the place I was created, and a small impression of where I was before, before I came together as I am now. I was in a home, with a family, and none other like me.