Clyde is a horse, a Clydesdale to be specific, and he’s real - especially to my daughter.  I’m tempted sometimes to see Clyde and his many fellows (can you have too many stuffed animals?) as mere playthings, but . . . they’re not.  In the wonderful world of my daughter’s imagination, each has a name, a personality, and gifts to share.

So, it was kind of like waking up in “The Velveteen Rabbit” when I found I had a traveling companion with me while traveling out of town this week.  Drawn into her world by this little fragment that had stowed away in my briefcase, I was instantly filled with delight that seems to be the sole province of children.  My imagination took a turn with what his presence was supposed to convey:  Was he sent along as a work-horse so I’d finish with my client quicker and come home sooner?  Perhaps he was supposed to keep watch and guard my computer while I slept?

My delight was only exceeded when I called home that night and she asked me if I’d found any surprises.  I had to string her along a little bit, but then I sent pictures of Clyde helping me at my computer and putting me to sleep - and you could almost see and touch the joy in her voice as she exclaimed “Oh, my goodness!”

 Clyde slept with me each night - I’m not sure if I did that for me, for my daughter, or for Clyde - but it felt right.  It felt real.

Living in a digital world with electronic media where the ephermeral pictures and dialog (like this?) are tucked out of sight and mind on hard disks and NVM, I find that my most cherished possessions are still the ones that I can touch and hold - especially mementos of those I love.  Somehow, if I can just touch something that’s real for them, it becomes real for me, and there we are, standing in a shared reality.  Talk about portals to virtual worlds!

I can’t carry my loved ones with me everywhere I go, but I can be with them wherever I am - so I guess now I’ve discovered Clyde’s mission after all - to bring me into the presence of love and joy with my daughter even while we are physically apart.