2012 was an odd year for me. There were ups, and there were downs, and there were many moments in between.
The ups: I started kindergarten in March. I watched The Avengers in May and fell in love with superheroes (ongoing). I turned 6 in July — finally, no longer the boring age of 5.
The downest of all downs: in July, as I was stepping into my town’s supermarket to buy ice cream, the owner accidentally spilled a cupful of boiling hot coffee on me. Hospitals, ice, gauze. A cycle that defined the entirety of my summer. I couldn’t use my right arm at all because my shoulder was covered in second-degree burns. For a 6-year-old, the boredom was possibly more excruciating than the pain. I sat at home, read books, tried to write with my left hand and failed.
My mom evidently couldn’t stand to watch me mope around for much longer. She took me to Seattle in the fall, where my grandparents lived. I always loved visiting them — the perfect change in scenery.
Yes, and the perfect opportunity for me to obtain a Build-A-Bear (BAB).
I’d been begging for a BAB for years. Every time I visited the mall, I couldn’t help but notice how their storefronts were just so colorful, and the bears oh-so-plentiful. But BABs were expensive (pretty similar to today’s prices, but with less inflation).
Imagine my surprise when one day, my mom took me to the BAB store. It felt like I was floating through a dream as I picked out the perfect fur — a rainbow-stripe pattern with a pink nose (a Rainbow Hugs Bear, introduced in April 2012 and no longer in circulation). I watched my bear come to life with the churning of the stuffing machine and the small red heart they tucked into her body. I named her Rainbow, bought her a Cinderella dress and brought her all the way home on my lap. I still remember getting into my grandpa’s car with her in my arms for the first time. She was almost as big as I was, back then.
My mom later told me that she saw me lose my spark that summer. I wouldn’t smile, I didn’t want to play with my friends, and I wouldn’t eat my favorite foods. She thought having a soft, cuddly friend would cheer me up, so she considered Rainbow a worthy investment.
I can attest to how worthy that investment was.
Let me sing Rainbow’s praises for a minute. First off, she’s a very well-traveled bear. She’s been in the mountains of Vermont, the piers of San Francisco, the streets of Vancouver. She’s been on a motorboat in the middle of the ocean in Vietnam. She’s been to every corner of Korea, even through a couple of caves and a submarine.
Second, she’s the most present friend you could hope for. She was there for every graduation, every new school. Every exam I studied for, she was right there learning the material with me (quite the smart bear, if I do say so myself). She was my number one priority as I unpacked in my Wolman dorm, just like she was the first thing I placed in my room when I moved to Boston three years ago.
I love Rainbow more than anything else in the world. I love that she’s always smiling (I think our smiles look alike). I love that she’s always here. She’s a part of me, but at the same time, I would save her over myself. She’s the one constant in my life that I’ll never let go of.
She’s sitting on my bed right now as I write this, wearing a dress I wore as an infant, wrapped in her Hello Kitty bathrobe. 13 years later, her colors are less vibrant than the day I brought her home. People say that she looks brand new, but I see how her eyes are a little dinged up and her snout could be a brighter pink. I sneeze when I have her on my lap because her fur’s been falling out. It took me a while to acknowledge that she was getting older. I didn’t want to face the reality that one day, she wouldn’t be the same bear that I cherish in my memories.
But I’ve changed, too. 13 years is a long time, after all. It’s more than two-thirds of my life. These days, I find joy in the fact that we’re changing together. That I don’t have to go through the years alone. No matter what she looks like, Rainbow will always be with me, and that’s what matters. All I can do is shower her with endless love and spoil her with way too many clothes.
One thing that’ll never change is that she’s my best friend.
Rebecca Ahn is a freshman studying Neuroscience from Boston, Mass. In her free time, she enjoys writing books, watching TV and fantasizing about the zombie apocalypse.