Window Shopping

They sit in a crowded shop window. Gazing out at the public with expressions that seem to beg for attention and love. 

Each one has an identity, each one has a story. They all just want to be held and loved.

And so they sit waiting. Waiting for that “special” someone. Someone who will name them, cuddle them, love them and for some – lucky ones – be clung to – forever and ever. 

They are stuffed toys.

Individually crafted. Some with artistic skill and some pieced simply together with workman’s glue. 

They’re origins whether they be humble or extravagant doesn’t really matter – especially to small children. 

But what of the ones that never get picked?

That are never taken home. 

The ones whose very purpose, who’s very reason for being are denied. 

Denied by harried individuals who rush past the shop window – too busy to stop or notice their eagerness to be seen.

What happens to those toys? 

Ah, my heart breaks for them. 

Those unloved orphans who sit sadly in the window collecting dust. 

I had stuffed toys once… 

In another lifetime.

Back when I needed toys to comfort me from the darkness and scary monsters that hid in the night. 

Piglet and Eyoire. My bedtime companions.

Mom didn’t buy them from a Website. She bought them from a shop – probably very much like the one I was standing in front of just now. 

Eyoire eventually lost his tail and Piglet an eye. 

But… Damn, how I loved them. 

It’s a freezing New York City day and a gust of frosty wind strips me of my three layers of clothing.  I tug my overcoat closer to me in a protective manner and brush the embarrassing wetness from my face. 

Glancing around as if I should feel guilty for my sentimentality – I enter the throng of faceless people descending into subway darkness. 

The shriek of the F train’s wheels drowns my senses giving me a momentary reprieve from nostalgia. 

After all… 

They were only stuffed toys.