Cotton Tears

Lola slammed the door behind her, locking herself in her now childhood bedroom. My parents are being mean! She thought, I don’t want to move away!  

Her parents did not fight to open the door, pick the lock, or ask for forgiveness. Lola was a hot-headed ten-year-old who didn't like when things didn't go her way, and moving away from Hallowfields was not on her to-do list.

The blue cotton of her ankle-length dress swayed behind her as she stomped on her pink carpet. She tore off the bow nestled in the back of her hair, blonde curls becoming unruly around her round cheeks. She stood in the middle of her room, lonely now knowing that it would soon become full of distant memories of her growing up. I don’t want to lose these, she thought to herself as she tugged on the edge of her dress in frustration. She was feeling stuffed up, as the sting in her eyes began to weave into tears. 

She looked at the bunnies that lined her windowsill. Their stuffed cotton bodies flopped against the frame and pillows. One on her bed, Cuppy, had sunken patches in its yellow fur from the number of times her hands held him tightly. She cried harder, “I don’t want to leave!” 

Embracing Cuppy, she sobbed in his neck, curling herself on her twin bed. 

“You know, Lo, this might be good for you,” Cuppy said. 

Wait – Cuppy spoke? Lola looked up at the yellow bunny’s face with disbelief, checking to see that the black thread that created his lips was still sewn together. 

“You’re speaking? Cuppy, say something again.”

Cuppy’s lips split apart when he spoke next as a plush arm grazed the top of Lola’s head in a loving pat, “It might not be so bad that we’re moving away.”

Lola scrambled up, Cuppy’s fluffy arm dropping beside his round belly. Lola reached out to feel his twitching ears with her small fingers, “Cuppy! You never talked to me before!” 

“We’re stuffed bunnies, kid, we’re here to listen when you talk,” Cuppy said, shrugging his shoulders. 

Suddenly, she heard rustling from around her, the soft thud of feet on her wooden floor. She peered over her bed. The bunnies that lined her windowsill were now sitting over the edge, a pink one trying to climb up onto the bed with difficulty. 

“Cuppy’s right,” the bunny, Rosie, spoke out of breath. “You can’t be afraid of growing up. You’ll still have us.” 

“But I am scared,” Lola admitted, laying back down to get herself underneath the covers and laying her head on Cuppy’s stomach. Rosie sat behind her, hugging her back, and the two others, Dottie and Scootie, came to rest by her feet at the edge of the bed. 

“We’ll be with you every step of the way if you want us to be,” Cuppy said. “How scary can growing up be?” 

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Art by Andrea Lastimosa