Teddy Bear’s Feast
MAMA ALWAYS SANG THAT teddy bear song to me before bed. I imagined my teddy bears coming to life at night and waddling down into the forest to dance and play. I wished I could join them as a kid, but I was too young. No matter how long I tried to stay awake, the teddies never left my room, and when I woke up, they all sat exactly as I had left them.
She sang that song to me every night until I was thirteen. Then she became ill and couldn’t get out of bed. I ended up singing it to her.
Mama was sick for five years. I took care of her that whole time. Then one night, when I sang the song, her eyes didn’t open.
I was nineteen when she died. In her last breaths she warned me never to go into the woods. Her eyes grew soft, and then she was gone. I cried until the sun went
