pvark's Journal

First post!
I've just returned from just over a week away from home, on holiday in Cornwall. Since I went with family, and since I always tend to sleep on longer than anyone else and have people coming in to wake me up or donate coffee etc. I don't usually take plush with me on such trips. I'd just not feel comfortable being woken up by mum when I was snuggling tight with one of my bears. It sure would take some explaining, and it really isn't worth the risk.

Anyway, that means that I've just spent over a week away from TD bear. I don't think that has ever happened before. (Since he turned up on my doorstep all those years ago, of course.)

I'd like to try and explain how that made me feel. I really would. The gradual slide from joy of being on holiday and finally free of stressfull work, to the slight nagging sensation that things were somehow a bit strange, to the almost total panic on the last night when I had to face another night in bed with nothing to snuggle. But it's not easy to either remember it, or to describe it without sounding overly dramatic.

And it wasn't actually dramatic. I was just fine really. In fact, I can almost say that up until the last few days I actually slept better than normal. On holiday; no stress. Bed. Sleep. It's pretty simple like that.

But I can't say I spared the horses on the way back home, either. I wanted to see my house was still standing and so on, obviously, but the main thing that pulled me back at warp 10 was a certain little white cuddly guy.

And once again, I'd love to be able to share those moments, but I doubt it'll be possible unless you've experienced it too. Since TD is cuddled and snuggled pretty much every single night, holding him again for the 'first' time was simply unreal.

In part, it's a mental thing; it's something I had been thinking about from the very second I put him carefully away before I went on holiday. If I was being totally honest, I'd have to admit that I realised this when I decided not to take plush with me: the return would be all the more sensational for it.

In an even bigger part, though, it's physical. The sight; eyes meeting anew; so much being said with no words. The scent; allways different somehow, and yet always familiar. The touch; oh, my - the touch. Holding TD once again made me melt. That's the best way to describe it. There was no time or space. Nothing at all in fact, but me and my plush love. Holding a paw, hugging him tight and close, brushing noses, ticking his feet - all that mattered was that we were together again. There is no way to describe that amount of emotion or release. It's like a huge dam of need and tension I didn't really realise I had suddenly broke, and the whole world except TD was washed away by it for a little while. Or something.

Seconds and minutes and hours and months and lifetimes passed.

And when I finally began to rise to the surface and remember who and what I was, there was a reflex part of me that wanted to say something like "I'll never, ever leave you again, dear TD."

But I didn't. Partly because I know that this would be a hollow, impractical thing to promise. But also because I know that although it's hard to leave him, coming home again can be so, so sweet.

PVark

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