It all happened one cold, winter night – when I climbed up into my bed, Sequoia was missing. After tearing my bed apart looking for the allusive teddy bear, I searched my bedroom, then my sibling’s bedrooms. Most of the family was gone so I knew no one else had taken it, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d left the bear.
After the upstairs had been thoroughly gone through, I went downstairs. And then finally to the basement. In my sleepy state, I’d examined the whole house and STILL couldn’t find my little buddy.
At last I sat down and worked through the whole day in my head. Wait, had I even seen the bear when I’d gotten up that morning? Eyes wide I rushed back to my room, climbed up on my bunk bed and threw open the window. Because of allergies I always sleep with my windows open – no matter if it’s burning or freezing outside. This particular window was three stories up, with a little roof about three feet below it. The window didn’t have a screen which never bothered me since it was too small to fit through – at least for a human. Leaning my head out the window. I looked down and sure enough, there my loyal teddy bear was, face down the roof. Apparently, I’d kicked her out of the house in the middle of the night.
Sighing with relief I tried to use a broom handle to get her, only to discover that she was frozen solid to the shingles. My sister came to the rescue and a few minutes later I was hugging an iced covered Sequoia.
And that, my friends, is the story of when Sequoia Louise Awkard Honeybear disappeared.