u/Indigotcg

**Bear | Feb 14 2026**
It’s Valentine's Day. I’m a college student in California, far away from home — and my girlfriend, all the way in Rhode Island. Yesterday was a busy Friday the 13th. An exhaustive morning of arduous classes, broken up only by a meeting to discuss studying abroad. Finally at 2:50pm I was freed from the instructional center to enjoy the few remaining hours of sunshine at my disposal. Just outside of the building, there was a small vendor fair — students selling crocheted crafts, fresh flowers, meditation books, and the like. The sun was brilliant, with daylight warmth feeling especially borrowed in the middle of February. A fantastic opportunity for a nap, one might even presume. Thus it so happened that, after a bit of time spent enjoying the natural world around me, I removed the hoodie off my back (for I was beginning to overheat, even mid-winter) — placed it over my backpack — and promptly laid down for a nap. A sidewalk nap, as I've coined it. One of my favorite uses of free will — an uninterrupted session with your thoughts or without. You may let your mind wander, or focus on your breath, or even fall asleep — so long as you feel at peace, there's no "right way" to perform a SWN. Anything counts in your pursuit of serenity. A 23-minute timer was set, and off to daze and doze we went.

One truly phenomenal nap later, and I came to the realization that some of the vendor's stands were being pulled down. The thought of not having interacted with any anguished me, so I hopped up and walked to the one nearest to me. After browsing and making some small talk, I probed further on the topic of the club — what were they, and what did they do? Their stand was arranged with hand-crafted flowers, keychains, earrings, and even little stuffed bears. As it turns out, each of these items was made by members of the club during their weekly sessions, and sold for the sole purpose of benefitting various trusted charities. In fact, many of the members had education in business, which led to a maximization of profits for… charitable donations? I was incredibly intrigued, and given my recent itch to volunteer more, I asked how I could help. Nothing on the table really piqued my interest — Valentine's Day was mere hours away, but my valentine was across the country. No sense in shipping handcrafted flowers that would not only arrive a week late, but also be destroyed upon landing. I suggested simply donating some money to the cause — for materials or straight to charities, etc — which the group members quickly advocated against, redirecting me towards the second table I had failed to fully consider. This was the table with the fuzzy little bears. I had some reservations, but they quickly grew on me, leading to the impulsive purchase of a $6 fuzzy pipe-cleaner bear. He was all brown with a bow tie, hair covering his eyes, and missing a nose — but I loved him. He even matched a tiny crocheted bear my valentine had given me as a gift some months prior.

It was perfect. Attached to his head was a little keychain, which I connected to a belt loop on my pants without hesitation. I thanked the members of the club and they informed me of a meeting that night at 6pm. It was nearly 4:00 already, so I eventually began to make my way to the gym. A 35-minute walk from my dorm but only 20 from the nap spot, the journey took longer than usual because I kept rerouting myself to pick up trash and other muck across campus. Food containers, plastic bags, receipts, old test booklets, likely-contaminated gloves… I was consistently adding detours to my journey in search of trash cans, which for an unknown reason are incredibly thinly spread throughout our large community. Half an hour later, I make it to the gym, little bear ever connected to my jeans. I took him off for my short yet intense workout, but throughout it all I thought of him. Mid-set, I had the epiphany to name the little guy "Jamie" — it prominently contained both my and my Valentine's initials, and was fitting for a bear no bigger than the palm of my hand.

After leaving the gym at 5:50, I could already tell I was going to be late to my first meeting with the group from earlier, leading to a bit of a hustle on the way back. My legs were incredibly sore — I've worked out for nearly four years, so I've had my fair share of soreness, and I'm telling you — \**incredibly sore\** — but nonetheless I persevered, trudging along in the darkness. Finally, I make it to the building they had pointed me towards earlier — only ten minutes late! This was fantastic news, and I rush up the stairs only to realize that I actually had no clue where in the building this room was. Or even which building. I knew it was "room 206," but upstairs the rooms started at 245 — and after running downstairs, they started at 145. I crossed the street to the sister building, but that one was 170-199, and upstairs was a completely different situation. Luckily, I remember a group member whose Instagram I had retrieved earlier in the afternoon, shooting her a text requesting the location, citing my ineptitude. Eventually I was directed to the Instagram page of the club, wherein the highlights contained a video demonstration. The route was up the stairs, behind the building, and to the furthest room in the back. Follow the rooms 232, 230, and 228, and then boom! 206! Quite intuitive indeed.

Regardless of the confusion, I eventually did in fact make it; albeit sweaty, smelly, and in a tank top. Certainly a first impression. I enter to a chorus of my name, and begin to smile as I'm quickly introduced to the group. "He met us at our table today. He even bought a bear!" As I grasp at my belt loop to show off my new little friend, time slowed, and my gaze fell to the dangling keychain attached to my belt. Embarrassment washed over me as I clutched the empty chain, disconnected from my perfect little Jamie, who was nowhere to be seen. Truly, a first impression for the ages. No more than three hours had he been in my care before I somehow fumbled a bag important not only to me, but to my girlfriend, and to my newfound group mates who had literally created him. My heart was shattered, but I didn't let my cortisol spike. The group was unbelievably reassuring, going so far as to restructure their planned workshop for next week to turn it into a bear-making session, especially given the success of today's sale. A few people in the group suggested that they could just make a new one, and then someone had the brilliant thought that 'if he's in the group now, he could make a custom one!' That made me smile, and was a true reflection of turning an apparently negative into an unexpected positive.

After leaving the meeting with everyone, I searched the ground a bit around the area I had walked, but my schedule had an appointment in an hour and I still needed to eat. In a final attempt at finding Jamie, I posted a PSA to the school's Instagram story, which to this point 2,227 people have seen. It has a screenshot from the volunteer group's Instagram story about the vendor stand, reading, "I bought one of these fuzzy brown bears for my girlfriend for Valentine's Day - the keychain snapped and it fell as I was walking. I was going to Brandywine from the ARC. If anyone sees it, please dm me 🥺 already named it and everything.. 💔"

Today, I wasn't very productive. I have three midterms next week, along with seemingly infinite homework assignments, club meets, and volunteer activities. I also have hobbies and goals I've been working on, which were prioritized this morning over my academics. I grabbed "breakfast" at around 12, spent two or three hours editing a video and doing my laundry, and then promptly returned back to the dining hall for more food. After coming back to the dorm I made my bed and did some "math," which included calling a friend, watching YouTube, and pushing trophies on clash royale. "Oh well, the math was tough and obnoxious anyway, and I still have a few days until the test. Maybe I just need to hit the gym to clear my head for a bit," I thought. "It'll be a long walk, but it's worth it. It's not even 9pm, and the gym closes at 12 most nights." As I exit through the stairwell, I check my camera roll to ensure the gym was still open even though it was president's day soon. Luckily, president's day only affected the hours on the weekend and Monday, so it was of no concern. I thought about taking a bus, but nah — I'd rather get my cardio in. It's a 35-minute walk or a 20-minute bus ride — that's 10 minutes saved, but 35 extra minutes of cardio lost. Plus, I don't know Friday bus hours, so they might not even still be going past 9pm. With this in mind, I turned on a podcast and continued my trek, time flying by as I took a familiar route, picking up trash along the way. I admit, I had to hop a few fences to get to public trash cans, but that just makes the journey more fun at the end of the day. Except the fact that my legs are sore, and my phone fell out of my pocket and the screen cracked… oh well. Worth it!

Regardless, I eventually made it to our big, oftentimes intimidating gym. There are a few people around outside, but the parking lot is nearly barren. This late on a night with no school tomorrow? Yeah, that tracks. Truly, however, there were very few cars tonight. To the extent that I even whipped out my phone to take a video, in the "look at me grinding when everyone else is partying" sense. I had previously recorded one in the gym — the difference between the first week of January vs a Friday on the second week. All those resolutions seemed to fade quite quickly. As I walk up the stairs to the entrance, however, it gets a bit eery. There are a few people sitting out front, recording their dancing, but the lights seem dim inside. I'm peering in from far away but I don't see anyone at the desk. I can't get close for fear of interrupting the filmed dance routine going on, and so I check my phone to make sure the picture I took of president's day hours aren't misinformed. Nope, says so right here, Friday they're open until 12am. So why aren't the lights on at.. 9:34? I'm terribly confused, and approach one of the dancers after they finished their routine.

"Yo, is the gym open?" I confidently inquire. "Nah, it's closed for the night," the dancer responds. "I thought it was open until 12? That's what it said online." I assert, still attempting to dissuade myself from reality. "Saturdays it always closed at 9." Uh, yeah, I know that, I've been going to this gym for months, but today's- . . . no way. No way did I just spend 35 minutes walking here on a Saturday, leaving my dorm five minutes before closure. "Omg, I thought today was Friday… that's insane. Thank you dude." I'm gobsmacked. Never in my time at college has this happened to me — to be so sure it's a completely different day to the point of going through all this effort, never once checking my phone, calendar, or anything. I even told my roommate, "hey man ima go to the gym, you wanna come?" to which he did not respond "it's closing in 5 minutes," but instead, "nah I'm not lifting today." I also chose not to take the bus — had I wanted to, I would have seen that none were running, which happens on weekends. But no. Time for another 35-minute walk back. I pushed off my academics for this.

So, I decide to go home. I call my friend and I recount that I'm unbothered, and consider it a funny story. Not worth the cortisol. It's really not that big of a deal, and I'll probably simply end up going to the little gym closer to home that's open until 11, no biggie. He laughs and we end the call, after which I ring my mother, still wishing to recount this goofy adventure. It feels silly and surreal, but that's just my life sometimes. She picks up and I explain the humorous ordeal, expressing the confusion I felt towards myself, but acknowledging that it felt like a positive situation regardless. Somehow, I was really enjoying the walk, and of all the days to miss a workout at the 'big gym,' today's "abs, forearms, and cardio" was truly the perfect circuit to readjust. As a caveat, I've recently been experimenting a lot with my route to the gym. Yesterday in my attempt to clean up the roads and scour the land for trashcans, I kept finding new, previously undiscovered pockets of the map that I'm calling home. In that respect, as I walked back a familiar route from the gym, I semi-consciously decided to take a shortcut I had discovered on my way home yesterday. Not by any means a well-trodden path. As I listen to my mom talk about her evening, and recount the strife of my own, I see a leaf in the darkness of the path. I continue walking, but… for whatever reason, my body turns around, and I take two steps back the way that I went. And who might be that very leaf on the ground but Jamie, squished and damp, adorable nonetheless. One ear misshapen, a small bit of pipe-cleaner sticking through his fur, his chest moist from dew or sprinklers or an unknown force in between. But he was mine. And he was safe now.

The entire purpose of this long, arduous journey, birthed from an uncharacteristic misunderstanding of dates and times, was to reunite me with my little bear. The amount of coincidences that came together to make this possible are innumerable. I don't even know how I saw him — I was walking on a path with no lights, and had my mom on FaceTime who I was focusing my attention on. It makes me wonder how many other "coincidences" may have passed me by in the past — or how many may not have. How lucky indeed, that I thought today was Friday. I'll make sure Jamie's cozy and warm and dry tonight, after what must have been an uncomfortable 24 hours. Don't worry little guy. You're safe now 🫶

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