I’ve been passed down, over many generations. But I have a different life with ever person who loves me. When I was in position of miss Emma, we traveled a thing she called the Oregon Trail and I watched her defeat a terrible sickness. She got older, keeping me with her in every step. She even had me on her wedding day, a reminder of her mother. When she had her first daughter in 1855, I was given to Jenna. Though I was covered in baby snot and drool, I loved it. That was until around Jenna’s fifteenth birthday. Jenna would take me everywhere, even to school. Then she met Johnny. Johnny wasn’t a boy, and I was sort of a secret keeper for Jenna. She told me everything. But Jenna eventually graduated high school and went to college to become a nurse. She took me to the university. I was passed to her daughter, and to the next three first daughters. As we flash forward to today, I have been patched up and restuffed more than I can count. I guess that is what I learned to love. I now sit on a bed, in a baby’s room, awaiting my new owner. I watch as my old owner, Lilly, and her wife walk into the room. They are holding a new born, and he is in a blue blanket. I have never been best friends with a boy, but I am extremely excited to see what waits ahead.