Slouching on my bed with two matching, derpy smiles, my twin teddy bears stare at me while I fold my blankets. Their brown fabric is worn; their bodies sag — and even their beady plastic eyes have scratches. Nonetheless, they remain endearingly adorable in my eyes.
Since they are now comfortably within the warm confines of my bedroom, it’s hard to imagine that they were once left for the landfill, abandoned at an apartment dumpster in Songpa-gu, South Korea.
When I was 2, my grandma found my beloved bears next to the communal recycling bin while taking out the trash. Evidently, she thought they were cute, because next thing I knew, she had already given them both a deep-clean and a new owner: me.
Surprisingly, 2-year-old me really liked them — in fact, they were my favorite stuffed animals, maybe because of how huggable they are. As a toddler, I also really liked to chew on their leathery noses. I’m not proud of it, but I ended up picking at their noses so much that the white fabric underneath became visible.
Of course, I don’t remember any of the details of these experiences. But from what I’ve heard from my family, they’d been my constant little buddies for a good couple of years.
Even to this day, those two teddy bears have a special place in my heart; plus, they comfort me during my occasional bouts of frustration or sadness. The best thing about stuffed animals is that they can never judge you or talk back to you. They are the silent listeners of childhood, complaints and curses.
Sentimental value is real, so if you also have childhood stuffed animals, my advice would be to avoid being peer-pressured into throwing them out. For me, those two stuffed bears never fail to remind me of the days when high school was just a distant fairytale, some vague concept I didn’t even know about. And even though our story started next to the dumpster, I’m glad I still have them now. It may seem childish, but I never want to stop loving them, and I sincerely hope they have a home in whatever home I’m living in.
