On a chair in my grandparent's house, lies an old faded tiger, with a green jumper and a scarf. Its stripes are barely discernable, and its fur is ragged and threadbare. It has had new feet sown on by my grandmother, and one of its eyes has fallen out. It is worth next to nothing in money, but the play, and generations, that this old toy has seen, have huge personal worth. <Tab/&…showed first 75 words of 393 total…

…showed last 75 words of 393 total…was also playing with a toy that my father had played with, in the same way that my father had played with it. And this is what makes it special, because it has had such a long life as a toy, and it has seen so many members of our family, grow in the process, it is so familiar, and as such it is in my eyes a beautiful thing, although maybe not to others.