Do You Want a Cup of Tea?

Being an imaginary friend is not always the easiest thing in the world. The end is always far less pleasant than the beginning.

            Coriander was the high light of my existence, as painful as that may seem. His tussled brown curls and bright green eyes captivated me the second I saw them. I first met him when he was 3 years old, sitting on his bedroom floor playing with his older sister’s tea set. “Mrs. Bitterspring!” he would say. “Do you want a cup of tea?” Of course, it would come out far more childlike, but I always knew what he meant, that’s what I was made for.

            He created me when he saw a picture of a bear for the first time. So naturally, I looked sort of like one, except I had two horns, and six legs instead four. My fur was purple and blue and my eyes were unnaturally large, but he didn’t seem to care. Every morning he would wake up and call me over to his bed, putting his small hands in my large paws, “Mrs. Bitterspring, I love you.”

            “I love you too, Andy,” I would say, and press my nose to his forehead. My fur would go up his nose and he would giggle.

            We played together every day for years, going on one crazy adventure or another; whether it was going to the moon or deep-sea diving at the bottom of the ocean. No matter where we went in his small, creative mind, he would always smile so long as I was with him. My purpose in life was to make him happy, to scare away all the bad monsters hiding in the dark, and of course, to drink tea with him.

            The years went by in a flash, and I loved him more and more each day, watching him sprout from the small toddler, bumping into this and that, to an eight-year-old riding his bike for the first time. As each day passed by, he would forget to say, “I love you” in the morning, or sometimes he wouldn’t even speak to me. I would watch as he woke up in the morning groggy-eyed and adorable as always, and he didn’t seem to notice me when I sat at the edge of his bed with a readily-placed smile on my face.

            One morning he woke up, looked down at me and smiled slightly before shaking his head and saying something along the lines of, “They’d make fun of me if I talked about her.” He sounded so sad, so I didn’t say anything back, not wanting to make it worse. After all, my job was to make him happy, not the other way around. So, every morning I would sit their expectantly, watching as his room changed from silly cartoon characters to rugged Japanese designed people, all the while loving him. His hair was cut short and he wore glasses now, but he was still the same adorable kid I always knew.

            Then one day, he woke up and I knew then that he had forgotten I existed. I stared down at my paws and watched as they began to fade away. I climbed onto his bed and onto his lap, staring into his eyes expectantly, but he didn’t seem to see me at all. I waved and I roared, tussling his hair, but nothing made a difference. Eventually I just sat there, staring into his eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, little Andy,” I said softly. “I am glad you remembered me this long.”

           

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Love this this could be the start of a children’s series keep going