Let’s be honest, the first week of college sucked. I was lonely, always lost, missed my dog, and pretty much just wanted to go home. From the outside, it looked like I was thriving. I was smiling, chatting, and pretending I had everything figured out when, in reality, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. At Wake Forest, feeling lost while acting like everything is fine is known as “Wake Face.”
During this period, Lamby and Uni, my childhood stuffed animals, were the quiet support system I didn’t know I needed. Aside from the photos taped above my desk, they were the closest things to home that I brought with me. Each night, I fell asleep with them wrapped tight in my arms, their familiar scent putting me at ease and instantly transporting me back home. Their fur carried that oddly specific detergent smell my mom somehow perfects each time she does laundry.
My stuffed animals immediately catch the eye of anyone who walks into my room. They lean against my accent pillow, Lamby’s beige, matted fur, and Uni’s hot pink accents standing out against my smooth white duvet. Most people react the same way: “Wait, you brought your stuffed animals to college? I didn’t think anyone did that. I wish I brought mine.”
The comment surprises me each time. Lamby and Uni were item #1 on my packing list. They’ve been the constant in every chapter of my life, and the thought of leaving them behind made me more anxious than moving in itself. Our childhoods, and everything in them, shaped who we are. There’s nothing embarrassing about holding on to a piece of it. Why pretend we’re too old for comfort when, deep down, we all crave it?