My stuffed bunny, Grace, still sleeps next to me every night, and I am not ashamed of that. Last night I spilt essential oil all over her. I looked at her. The orange ribbon I tied in her hair when I was 12 is falling out, I tie it and see the snip in her ear that Josiah made when he was 4. I remember telling him in a not so nice little girl voice that I was going to sharpie his buzz lightyear doll. His reply was of course to say “HES NOT A DOLL!” and start crying. Her whiskers are all off now. I still think she would be heart broken if I ever left her under my bed. I think about Toy Story too much. She holds so many tears from little 6 year old Grace, the little girl with the pink blanket her thumb in her mouth and her bunny under her arm, and even tears from this 19 year old young-woman. Anyway. I just thought I would publicly honor her. Maybe because I have mental issues. But she has been a great friend for years.