A fictional historical short story about a teddy bear that gets left behind during the Blitz of World War II. Won an honorable mention in the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards (2015).
“Why is Mother crying?” I asked, tilting my head up to look into his eyes. His jaw stiffened and he draped an arm around me.
“She’s just missing us.”
“Well, why can’t she come with us? I can sit in her lap. There’s still room."
“It’s not that easy, Ann."
“What will happen to her? Will she be okay?” I asked, tears appearing along the brim of my eyes. Kenneth was silent for a moment before pulling me impossibly closer.
“She’ll be fine. Remember, she has her own personal soldier. Sergeant Teddy will keep her from harm.” I nodded, resting my head against his stomach. The rest of the trip was spent staring at the peeling red paint of the train cabin and rock paper scissors with my brother.
The family we stayed with in the English countryside had a radio. Kenneth and I would sit together day after day listening to the footage of the war. We heard the speeches and announcements as well as the coverage on the Blitz. It lasted for nights and those nights turned into day. There was a constant worry about our mother’s safety and I had never felt so helpless.
When it was finally safe enough to return home, we returned to slivers of wood and torn up wallpaper. None of it mattered to us. Our mother had made it safely. Our house was far from salvageable but we all crept in to see if anything had survived the Blitz. Sitting on the wood floor was a stuffed animal I knew well. Matting my hands through its brown fur, I picked it up and held it next to my face.
“At ease, Sergeant Teddy.”
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