Dear Bootham - My

Looking at my dear Bootham tonight, I felt something I rarely allow myself to feel: tenderness without irony.

When I was six, Bootham was my co-adventurer. He rode shotgun on bicycle trips down the hallway. He listened to every complaint about homework, every secret crush, every fear I couldn’t say out loud to anyone else. He never interrupted. He never judged. He just sat there, unblinking, patient as stone and soft as forgiveness. my dear bootham

I’ve had Bootham for over twenty years. Looking at my dear Bootham tonight, I felt

So tonight, I’ll tighten his loose button eye. I’ll dust him off. And I’ll put him back on the shelf—not as a decoration, but as a reminder. He listened to every complaint about homework, every

Looking at him now, as an adult, I realize something strange.

And Bootham has been watching over me the whole time. Do you have a Bootham in your life? Something worn, quiet, and impossibly dear? Tell me about them in the comments. I’d love to know.