Day 23: Baldwin the Bear Part 1

Certain favorite bloggers of mine have taken up the assignment of blogging 31 days in a row (#write31days), and in an attempt to re-galvanize my own writing, I decided to join in the fun. The idea behind this particular blog-a-thon is to be as real and vulnerable as possible, which is (almost) always a healthy exercise. I've tried blogging marathons in the past (to varying degrees of success), and my seminary schedule does not allow for much flexibility. so the process may be fitful or short-lived, but it couldn't hurt to try!

Day 23: Baldwin the Bear Part 1

For no small portion of his childhood Baldwin considered the stars to be his only, or at the very least dearest, friends. They kept him company most nights, save the few when cloud cover would render his sparkly friends dim or missing entirely. As a young cub Baldwin would even become frightened they had abandoned him, flown off to visit and bring comfort to some other lonely young bear.

Amid the glassy sea of stars Baldwin could discern a few familiar shapes night to night: a salmon, an acorn, three dueling raccoons and his two favorites, a mama bear and her cub. Though separated by a sizable chunk of sky the two bears were undoubtedly kin. They seemed to search for one another, chase each other around the sky as if mama had lost the babe and would tear the heavens apart to be reunited with it. Our tender young bear friend was even from time to time reduced to gentle sobs as he lay awake watching the scene.

Baldwin tried and tried to endear himself to the other cubs of his pack, but they always seemed put off by his ethereal, untethered demeanor. "It's as if he might lift off and float away at any moment," they would say, and truly, Baldwin agreed. His feet did not plod harshly upon the ground as did his comrades'. He walked gingerly, deliberately upon the earth.


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