Monday, November 8, 2010
Once soft and fluffy, his outsides are now matted and threadbare.
The hard plastic eyes he originally sported were replaced long ago with Sharpie-colored ping pong balls after hours of active play shattered them beyond what Band-Aids and cotton balls could still hold together.
He's been repaired, restuffed and restitched more times than we can recall. And as both his surgeon and primary care physician, it pains me to say that Elmo's long-term prognosis is not favorable.
Despite my extensive training and experience, there's only so much a stuffie surgeon can do.
So, for now, we wait...and hope...for that magical moment when the enduring love of a young child turns a beloved toy real. It happened in Margery Williams wonderful account from 1922, after all.
They've played together, shared a bedroom, traveled and had countless nighttime conversations at the end of a long day.
Elmo has been best friend, comforter, playmate and, occasionally, even a willing weapon in skirmishes between Jack and his sisters. He's camped with our family and enjoyed trips to Disney World, Santa's Village and Story Land, among other adventures.
In short, Elmo has lived a long life, a very good life.
Margery Williams' magic still exists...of that I'm certain.
And one day soon, Jack will walk downstairs, hand in hand, with a lively, renewed and vibrantly red companion made real by his enduring love.