I Love Pooh - But Do Not Know Why?

I love Winnie the Pooh. I cannot tell you why, but it was later in my life, too. I ordered my first Winnie the Pooh from Disney in Phoenix, where I realised for the first time I was homesick—my first time away from home. Since then, Pooh and I have always been together. He was there when I took my GMAT, when I got admission to London Business School, when I was getting over crushes and when I would get called at midnight to fix software issues (yeah, that time we had to go into the office, no work laptop at home).

Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.

I moved to London for an MBA, and Pooh was there too. MBA was a trying time, especially my first year - I did not fit into the crowd, but it fitted into my life. I remember watching movies with Nandos fries and spicy wings in my tiny room in St.Johnswood with Pooh. He was there for the late-night conversations and study nights. Pooh was there when I finally found my groove in the second year of my MBA. He was there when I met my husband - when I got engaged, got married, and moved into an apartment.

When we decided to move to Columbus, Ohio, from London, it was natural that Pooh would move also. And that move was a big one, so we shipped boxes from London to the USA through flights and ships. As we started settling into our new house, the boxes started arriving, except the one with Pooh. Yes, Pooh got lost. I was angry at myself for not packing him in my check-in luggage. I was upset at my husband for having his soft toys. He brought me a new Pooh, and I was aghast that he thought another Pooh would fix the situation. I hated the second Pooh - it did not look like my Pooh. My parents were upset because they did not know how to resolve the issue.

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours. If it doesn't it never was.

I don't remember, but months passed—and I could not do anything about this gaping hole in my life. Never once did I think, "Oh! It's just a soft toy, a big deal; I will get over it." One day, my husband called me to say that they had found a box abandoned at the Florida airport, and they were shipping it to us. Yes, it was the box with Pooh, and Pooh came home. Everybody was relieved and breathed a sigh of relief. And Pooh is still there. And funnily enough, my husband never gave hope - he told me when we lost the box that he would create a miracle. He was right - Pooh came to us.

Of course, my friends knew about my obsession with Pooh, so I have collected a lot of Pooh stuff over the years - there is a Pooh in every room in our house. I even have a dragon Pooh from Hong Kong - one of my friends gave it to me during the Year of the Dragon. I have a Pooh in my car with an ear broken (a gift from a close friend). Even when I write this blog, a part of me is still surprised by my emotional attachment to Pooh. I am sure there are many reasons why the attachment exists, but I do not want to know the reason. I like not knowing why I love Pooh - maybe I am afraid to know why, or it does not matter to me. What matters to me is that I have an emotional bond with someone.

Do you have something in your life that, for some unknown reason, occupies a sacred space in your mind, body or soul?

Piglet: We'll be friends forever, won't we Pooh? Pooh: Even Longer