As I stare at Lotso, my bear, I can't help but get this deep feeling in my chest. I stay still in my bed, my muscles tight, staring, my mind blank, just for a moment. My body, never able to relax or stop moving, somehow is as still as a deer in headlights, holding so much, so much that my mind still struggles to understand what it is. As I look at his magenta pink nose, light brown eyes, purple eyebrows with the left one lifted to add character to his story, and his plushy texture of his body, my heart flutters with this nostalgic, maybe wistful feeling. I close my eyes and see little me, carrying Losto everywhere, always having him close, because I was in love with the strawberry scent he had on him. Laying in bed laughing cause my Papa would tickle me until I couldn't breathe, he did the same with Losto, just to hear me laugh and smile. Looking into his light brown eyes, holding his long veiny hands, with calluses from work. His hair, eyes, hands, smile, all he passed down to me, I smile, and knowing I'm his daughter, I am filled with a glow.

I gave my Papa my Losto, so he wouldn't be lonely when my brother and I went back to Mama's place. Whenever we would come by, I would always see Losto sitting in his chair smiling, filling the room with his specific smell I love. I think to myself with my eyes now staring at the bear, with my mind playing more memories of me with him. The bear that is called the bad guy, but was really just hurt and wanted to be loved. As I'm thinking of Losto, I say to absolutely no one, “He reminds me of my Papa.” The loving, warm, funny faces to make me laugh, the best hugs, reassurance, and this very specific smell to him, man. 

I get up, move to my paints, take the brush and let my hand glide its way onto the walls. The smell of the paint, I close my eyes again and am overcome with nostalgia. Watching my Papa paint and work, while I sit there with my Losto taking in the smells, and the details of the art all around the walls. Maybe it's sentimentality with my remembrance of my past, but maybe it's also a longing feeling for when I was naive and happy. Happy to just watch and observe the people I love, not knowing where we would be 8 years from then. I turn my head to my bed, seeing nothing but my white pillows laid out, no magenta pink bear, just white pillows. A tear rolls down my eye, I don't realize it until it hits my lips. I smile with sadness but love.  The happier times with Losto are no longer here in my hands, but in my head, and heart.