Suzie Q, I Love You

My family aside, there's been one constant in my life since the day I was born, and that's Suzie. Here she is:

The day after I dropped into the world, my mother's Aunty Betty came to visit. Somewhere between the door and the maternity ward was a stall selling stuffed toys made by (I think) patients recovering from major heart surgery. She picked up Suzie, and she's been with me ever since, moving with me to university and then to Manchester, where she's sat up in the corner of my bedroom. She'd come on holiday with us to Butlins when I was young, I could barely stand to be away from her. Obviously she became less a comfort blanket over the years, but I still look her over to the States a few years ago. Didn't feel right to go there without her.

When I was younger, I would insist to my mother that we celebrate her birthday, which is obviously the day after mine. Much to her credit, she indulged me in this and would buy a card for her and a little cake.

For her age, she's holding up well. Better than me, in a lot of ways. All the same, observant readers may have noticed that the poor girl is missing an eye. Not as a result of one of my many petulant childhood strops, you may be surprised to hear. No. It was that little shit of a brother of mine that did it, and he's still not forgiven. I must have pissed him off, the way brothers do, but all the same there was no need for retaliation of that level.

What made it even worse was that soon after, his school had a "Teddy Bear's Picnic" type thing. Our mam, being ever-resourceful, dolled Suzie up with a pirate costume, complete with eyepatch. Thus my brother won a prize, showing that being an evil scrote pays off and there truly is no karma in this world.

I'm not sure if it's tragic having such memories of childhood still hanging around when you're into your 30s, but it feels reassuring that she's still around. I wonder if there's ever a time I'll let her go: maybe when my brother has spawn of his own, I'll hand her over to try and wade them away from his path of darkness. Or maybe I'll cling on to her till my final days, and like one of those mad old cat women, name her as my sole inheritor of whatever I have left by that point.