Encompassed in the safety
Of an old Odyssey van
A young girl pressed a palm to the dusty window
While gazing at the dry, desert land

In her other, little hand
She held Blue Bear

Whose beaded eyes were pools that reflected distant, but vivid memories
Of lush vegetation, cornfields and quaint red house in the quiet countryside

Whose deep-blue fur carried the fumes and fragrance
Of gasoline on a cold winter’s day and summertime alfalfa

Whose stitched-up arm made the girl reminisce
About her memories of home

As if it were only yesterday

It was the small stuffed bear that
Reminded her she didn’t have to fear

The skyscrapers that would forever stretch out to the sky
The millions of sandy beige houses, nestled like unpainted wood blocks and
Large brick walls that enclosed each one
The rotting scent of stale garbage and loud, blaring sounds
From the rush hour traffic
All the diverse vehicles passing by

Taking it all in, the 9-year-old let out a small, shaky sigh

Blue Bear shifted in her grasp
As a tear silently fell down the girl’s cheek
The bear turned his head up
The young girl looked down, forced a smile

And clutched her beloved Blue Bear.