Sam

We'd gone in for a small box of extra nice christmas cards. We want to send a very few, particularly to our two main contractors, who gave us such a lovely gift of their skill beyond what can be paid for in money. It's a stationary, gift shop called Tabula Rasa that has been around since I got to town, in 1985. Owners a lovely gay couple, just the one store. Smells lovely, too. Cards and handmade paper, curios, soaps, pens and candles, a gloriously gorgeous little place. And, this year, stuffed bears.


I was quite taken, as I often am with well made stuffed creatures. These were exceptional, with beanbag paws, intelligent expressions, flopped across the backs of chairs. I took Dylan in later, just to show. Hinted heavily that we could maybe do something for each other this christmas...

Well, we both know that on the rare occasions that I want a gift, I must be pretty explicit, and I'm fine with that.

Two days ago, he gives me the bear, because neither of us can stand to hide a gift from each other, and we are also fine with this.

A photo will come later.

I held the bear, big enough for a solid hug, never let it out of touch the whole evening. And then held bear through the night, a comfort immense. Smells of Tabula Rasa.

Hoping bear would tell me bear's name. And slowly, through the night, it came.

For bear was she and he, Two Spirit. Sam. Samuel and Samantha. In the morning I looked up the name. Meaning, Listens. Bear who listens. Yes.

Yes, I know, this is a reflection, not the creation of stuffed material. But also a shadow of the maker, and the spirit of a journey. This is a story, understand.

And it whispered to me of Smokey the Bear, a toy given on a trip to the Smokey Mountains when I was perhaps six years old. And how I surrounded myself with all available stuffed animals to protect me from the dark and the angry shouting heard through the heating vents at night. And I would talk to them to keep myself company in my loneliness.

And I sobbed into Sam Two Spirit's fur, and was comforted.

Eleanor pressed at my back, her own cat.

I cannot hug a cat all night, as they must move and breathe, and get a choice. A stuffed bear is all yours. Eleanor honors me with her presence, and I am grateful.

Dylan is kind, and gives me a bear to hold at night. I can't hold him all night either, he needs his sleep, as do I.


Sam Two Spirit bear is under my left arm as I write, a presence. Life is bigger than we know. It goes on after us, and streams out before us.