Georgie

Georgie has always been there for me. Waiting, sitting, lying down. He doesn’t talk much, but it’s a good kind of quiet—the kind that fills the car when it’s you and your mom, a silence that feels like home.

I think I first met him when I was five. Not in the way you normally meet a person, but more like how you stumble upon a treasure. Georgie’s a monkey, a crochet-olive-green-monkey. With lanky legs and arms with brown, orange and white stripes. On his left leg he has a ‘scar’ that was stitched up by my mom with grey thread. He has brown eyes with faded stripes of black from my younger self colouring them in with felt tip. He has pink thread that acts as his lips and a grin that reaches from ear to ear. Not the creepy type of smile that Chucky has or the fake smile that stock photo people have. Georgie has a happy smile, the smile that you’d want to see everyday. 

I vaguely remember getting him, not from the store. But from my sister asking which plushie I wanted. We stood by the staircase in our old house—the one with cream-colored steps, black balusters, and glossy brown newel posts. In each hand, she held a toy: Georgie and a cream-colored teddy bear with a gingham pink-blue-green pattern. PLOT TWIST: I chose the teddy. So, my sister ended up with Georgie. But she never had a great reputation for taking care of stuffed toys. Eventually, I decided he needed a better home. And just like that, Georgie became mine.

I have no idea where that teddy bear is now. But oh well.

Georgie, though? He’s been with me through everything. Every international trip, every road trip, and every beach house getaway. Whenever we arrived somewhere new, I’d prop him up on the bed I wanted—like a ‘reserved parking’ sign. I even used to bring him to the dinner table, making little chewing noises for him before devouring his imaginary meal myself. At night, I believed he went on adventures with my other plushies, only to return by morning. A small part of me still believes that.

I love him so, so, so much. Maybe it’s strange to feel such attachment to an inanimate object. Healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to be attached to him? Absolutely.

“If your house was on fire, what’s the first inanimate thing you’d save?”

Most people say their laptop. If I ever answer with that, I’m lying. My real answer will always be Georgie.

So if you see me at school, years from now when I’ve graduated, when I’ve got a job, when I’ve built a life, when I’m stretching in some retirement home—just know that the night before, I probably hugged Georgie before falling asleep. And even then, he’ll still be propped up against my pillow, waiting.

Everyone needs their own green monkey.

Writer – Bianca Hu
Editor – Eva Mcnulty
Artist – Grace Ye

–April 2025–