A/N: Oh hey guys,
This story was based off a Toy Story theory that was all over the internet.
I loved this movie so much! So why not write a fanfic?
Thanks for your time! I would really appreciate a review from you guys! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story nor any of its characters.

A Forgotten Friend

"My little boy is growing up," I whispered to myself as I felt a warm tear stream down my tired face.

The thought of Andy, my son, leaving for college terrifies me. He is becoming more independent as the years passed by. I was with him through thick and thin; the divorce, relationship problems, and other things that a child growing up might go through.
As I picked up the different items that were scattered around Andy's room, they overflowed my mind with precious memories—his tattered running shoes from his first track and field meet, his drawings from the art class that he enrolled in, and his poems that he wrote about this girl he admired back then—toyed with my emotions. It was hard to see someone you love dearly grow up right in front of your eyes.
After picking up every little thing across his bedroom floor and dusty shelves, I came across his toy chest. I bought this toy chest at a garage sale when Andy was still very young. It was dirty and stained, and the hinges wouldn't close; there were scratches on every nook and cranny as well. Andy and his father had refined the chest and gave it a wonderful design that matched his personal tastes. Andy loved cowboys and the Wild West, so they painted it to look like a mini prairie schooner. As I lifted the chest open, I gazed at all of his toys. These were Andy's best friends during his childhood; he preferred them over real people because they didn't intimidate or judge him. His toys were there for him and he was happy no matter what. I looked at each toy as I picked them up one by one placing them delicately in the brown cardboard box. Andy said that he will donate them to the Sunnyside Day Care so that other children would enjoy his companions that kept him company for many years. I was almost finished with the packing until I came across this doll.

This doll had bright red yarn for hair that fell in a perfect braid as a yellow bow tied it together matching the accents on her embroidered cotton shirt. She also wore faux cowhide chaps that covered her denim jeans and a beautiful brown laced hat that sat on the top of her head.
Where did I see her before? She looked very familiar to me as I eyed her features giving me a sudden rush of nostalgia. I removed her hat and observed it. That cowgirl hat was very similar to the hat I gave Andy when he was still small. I flipped the miniature hat over to inspect it a bit more and a name—written in black ink—was scratched and faded.

I let out a gasp as I read it. The name was Emily.

Was this my Jessie doll? I couldn't believe it. As I held her, tears escaped my eyes in uncontrollable patterns. My forgotten childhood friend was right in front of me. I held her tight as I wiped the tears away. I didn't want my kids to come in and catch me crying over a toy. I wondered how this doll ended up in Andy's room. I remembered that I donated her to a charity a long time ago. Probably it was fate that brought us together.

I pulled Jessie's string and listened to it like it was music to my ears. Her voice was still the same, the same high pitched "yee-haw" and yodel. It was all there. I recollected the many forgotten memories that swam through my mind as I listened to her many different expressions. Why did I ever give her away? I felt I tinge of guilt which caused me to place her hesitantly into the brown cardboard box.
I didn't want to leave Jessie again, even though she will be moved up into the attic with the other toys for a little while; I refused to part with her. I ended up grabbing the doll and placing it on my nightstand.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," I spoke to her as if she was alive and listening, "I'm glad to have you back."