Home

Like many children, I had a favorite stuffed animal when I was small. His name was Purple Friend, or sometimes Purple Bunny (he was purple in color and a rabbit, if you haven’t guessed). I slept with him at night, of course, and he was also a great source of comfort during the day; I have vivid memories of sitting on the back porch with him, crying over something my sisters or mother had done, drying my tears with his long ears. Naturally I misplaced Purple Friend from time to time, as children do, and also took him with me whenever we spent a night away from home. And so it was that one day he got left behind at my grandparents’ house. My mother called my father, who lived with my grandparents, and he said that he had found Purple Friend and would bring him to me when he came to visit soon. But when that visit came, I was told that Purple Friend had mysteriously disappeared again, and was nowhere to be found. I have my doubts now about certain aspects of my father’s story, but at the