Goose

Herself's maternal grandmother was a marvelous seamstress and could crochet wonderfully.  She made beautiful dresses for Herself and her sister; tiny doll clothes; fanciful Halloween costumes (Herself had a green cat costume that she wore for years); afghan blankets (Herself's was a cream color, with yellow patterns interspersed with other pastel colors); and, occasionally, whimsical stuffed animals. Herself's favorite creations are a set of barnyard fowl:  two upholstered-type chickens (one in a burnt orange pattern, one in a brown pattern), one larger fuzzy dark brown chicken, and, the pièce de résistance, a goose.  While Herself's mother still has the chickens, Herself is in possession of Goose.

Goose is orange and blue, with a long neck, felt feet, and googly eyes that rattle softly.  When Herself was a youngster, she was particularly fond of Goose.  If she were feeling sad, or otherwise in need of consolation, she would tuck Goose under her arm and carry him about with her when she was playing or reading.  Her family figured out that the appearance of Goose was a sign that Herself might be upset, and at first would inquire as to Goose's presence.  Quickly, though, Goose's appearance was a target of gentle mockery, and so Herself put Goose away.

Every now and then, she wishes that people could, in fact, carry around some outward sign of emotional need. It would make it so much easier to understand others, and perhaps even to be understood oneself.  Then again, perhaps not.  Sometimes, we need to work things out for ourselves.  An invisible Goose - comforting and yet unseen by others - would be perfect, I think.