Apparently, these stuffed animals, blind and bald, were things that once meant a great deal to me in a past so distant to me now as to be the stuff of legends. My mother went through her locker in the basement of her apartment building in Budapest to retrieve this dynamic duo when I was there this last September. She thought I might want to claim them and take them home with me, now that my own children have grown up and beyond the need for transitional objects of this kind.
I left these two there, but took this photo of them. As it is, there is no room for them on my desk, where there is another stuffed bear, that of my older son's, holding a silent vigil over an unshareable past.