The heart wants what it wants

Some things you just never stop wanting for. I have always, for as long as I can remember, wanted one of those humongous stuffed animals you can win at fairs and carnivals. When I was little, I would make space for it in the corner of my room before going to the fair, thinking this would somehow better my odds.
I wanted so badly to have that giant teddy bear watch over me when I slept and be able to curl up on its fluffy, cotton filled belly.
I wanted to be the girl at the fair who walked away with the grand prize, a stuffed animal three times her own size. I pictured it taking up almost the entire back seat as we drove home and my parents sighing in disbelif, "I can't belive she won".

As I got older, I no longer wanted to, or would be able to, sit on a teddy bear's lap. I didn’t have a spot in my room designated for my friend who always failed me.

But I still wanted one.

I wanted to win one, and even more, I wanted somebody else to win one and give it to me. And I would say things like “you’re crazy, you can’t give this to me” and “jeez, what am I going to do with a ginormous teddy bear?” and people would look at us and I would be the girl who was given the grand prize because her boy was just so darn cute.

And now whenever I go to fairs, which I rarely do, I even more rarely buy lottery tickets. And I have no idea what I would do with a stuffed animal the size of my refrigerator, it’d be terribly inconvenient, were I actually to win one.

But still, still I really want one.

And just like I thought clearing a spot for my furry friend would better my odds, which they didn’t, I now think telling myself I really don’t want one, will up my chances.

Someday though, I feel like it’s written in the starts, someday it will be me winning that 7 foot teddy bear and people will look at me and say
“What does an 80 year old need a stuffed animal for? She should really give that to a child!”

But the hell I will.