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Teddy Bear Picnic
I've heard it said that for every tale and every rhyme there’s always a little bit of truth behind it.
Growing up, mum had always warned me away from the woods near our place.
“Josh,” she would say, “never go into the woods at night.”
“There are things that wander the woods at night.”
Or perhaps, “It’s dangerous in the woods at night.”
I even remember once, on the way to the shops, the car radio began playing a song:
“If you go down to the woods today,
you're sure of a big surprise.”
Mum immediately changed the radio station and reminded me about playing in the woods.
Now, mum was not a strict person and she would even let me stay up late with her on the odd occasion, but she had always stressed the importance of keeping out of the woods at night. At the time I always just took it as her being a doting parent, trying to keep her son, me, out of harm’s way.
I should have listened.
For as long as I can remember, we've always had a teddy bear in our living room. Brown fur, black button eyes, wearing a light grey vest – just a normal looking teddy bear, sitting in a little chair next to the fireplace.
But mum would never let me play with it – never even let me anywhere near it. Being the good little boy that I am, I listened to her instructions and left it alone.
As I grew up, I thought it must have been some sort of memento of hers, something precious that she didn't want ruined by childish playing.
But now I realise she never looked at it fondly. And now I know why.
We moved house when I was twelve. I remember now that when we moved, we had packed our things into the car, but remember that mum had not packed the teddy bear – I thought to myself, “Maybe mum would come back for it later,” or “Maybe the movers would bring it with them?”
When we arrived at the new place, I remember mum began sobbing when she opened the door and there by the fireplace, was the teddy bear – brown fur, black button eyes, light grey vest, sitting in its little chair. She quickly fought back the sobs and carried on like nothing happened.
At the time, I had thought that the movers had brought it in and set it up like our old place, and that mum’s sobs were old memories welling up. But thinking back now, I’m not sure why I thought that – we had arrived before movers had even got there and I had never seen her look at that bear fondly.
Even at the new place, she stressed the importance of not going into the woods at night.
Life at the new place went on uneventfully – I went to school, made new friends that I hung out with and so on – just the normal stuff kids do growing up. Being the good boy that I was, I always went home before dark, and avoided going into the nearby woods.
A few years later, after I had turned fifteen, mum sat me down for a serious conversation.
“I know you’re growing up,” she said in serious tone, “and one day you might go in to the woods with friends or something, but promise me, if you ever go in there at night, you’ll hide your face. Wear a mask, or a hood, or something. Just don’t show your face. Not in the woods.”
This surprised me. I had always been a good boy and listened to her instructions, but I guess she thought I would soon go into my rebellious stage or something and go into the woods in spite of the words she impressed upon me growing up.
---
“If you go down to the woods today,
you better go in disguise.”
---
One day, I had run into the neighbour’s kid,...
Growing up, mum had always warned me away from the woods near our place.
“Josh,” she would say, “never go into the woods at night.”
“There are things that wander the woods at night.”
Or perhaps, “It’s dangerous in the woods at night.”
I even remember once, on the way to the shops, the car radio began playing a song:
“If you go down to the woods today,
you're sure of a big surprise.”
Mum immediately changed the radio station and reminded me about playing in the woods.
Now, mum was not a strict person and she would even let me stay up late with her on the odd occasion, but she had always stressed the importance of keeping out of the woods at night. At the time I always just took it as her being a doting parent, trying to keep her son, me, out of harm’s way.
I should have listened.
For as long as I can remember, we've always had a teddy bear in our living room. Brown fur, black button eyes, wearing a light grey vest – just a normal looking teddy bear, sitting in a little chair next to the fireplace.
But mum would never let me play with it – never even let me anywhere near it. Being the good little boy that I am, I listened to her instructions and left it alone.
As I grew up, I thought it must have been some sort of memento of hers, something precious that she didn't want ruined by childish playing.
But now I realise she never looked at it fondly. And now I know why.
We moved house when I was twelve. I remember now that when we moved, we had packed our things into the car, but remember that mum had not packed the teddy bear – I thought to myself, “Maybe mum would come back for it later,” or “Maybe the movers would bring it with them?”
When we arrived at the new place, I remember mum began sobbing when she opened the door and there by the fireplace, was the teddy bear – brown fur, black button eyes, light grey vest, sitting in its little chair. She quickly fought back the sobs and carried on like nothing happened.
At the time, I had thought that the movers had brought it in and set it up like our old place, and that mum’s sobs were old memories welling up. But thinking back now, I’m not sure why I thought that – we had arrived before movers had even got there and I had never seen her look at that bear fondly.
Even at the new place, she stressed the importance of not going into the woods at night.
Life at the new place went on uneventfully – I went to school, made new friends that I hung out with and so on – just the normal stuff kids do growing up. Being the good boy that I was, I always went home before dark, and avoided going into the nearby woods.
A few years later, after I had turned fifteen, mum sat me down for a serious conversation.
“I know you’re growing up,” she said in serious tone, “and one day you might go in to the woods with friends or something, but promise me, if you ever go in there at night, you’ll hide your face. Wear a mask, or a hood, or something. Just don’t show your face. Not in the woods.”
This surprised me. I had always been a good boy and listened to her instructions, but I guess she thought I would soon go into my rebellious stage or something and go into the woods in spite of the words she impressed upon me growing up.
---
“If you go down to the woods today,
you better go in disguise.”
---
One day, I had run into the neighbour’s kid,...
