Going through my boxes, I came across a stuffed toy my seanmhair made for me as a kid. Her name is Ginger, such an original name, and she went with me everywhere when I was in kindergarten. After that, she stayed at home because my parents convinced me it would be safer. Even when I got into junior high, I always kept her close to me. It was a habit to have her with when I talked to my grandma.
Finding her again brings back some great memories. During summer visits, Ginger and I would explore the garden while granny sat on the porch crocheting. I would pretend to be an explorer searching for untold treasures. I vaguely remember hearing bell-like laughter coming from the flowers.
I remember when I lost her once. My parents couldn’t get me to stop crying. They offered to get me a new one, but I was adamant that no other toy could replace Ginger. My mom found her buried under some clean clothes in the laundry room. My tears of sadness turned to tears of joy when I got her back.