This afternoon one of my sisters, the only one who still lives in the same city as my mom, posted this picture to the family WhatsApp.
It's a picture of the bear my mom has on her bed.
This bear has been tucked away forever but has made a reappearance during my mother's nearly year long isolation in her house.
Now my mom is about as sharp, tough, and resilient as they come. She says that if the pandemic doesn't end soon she doesn't know what she will get up to next. Still the sight of this little bear, now 93 and the one my mother had as a baby, has really touched me. Note the nose darned by my grandmother, who I never met, who died when my mother was a girl.
The thing about the bear is that my mom recently knit her a new sweater. She says she is going to work on a new skirt next so the bear "looks respectable."
Now I don't know what is getting to me more. The knitting new clothes or the thought that this little bear has made a reappearance after all these years to be a comfort.