A/N Okay, so I was listening to this really cool song called A Thousand Years by Christina Perri and how it could apply to lots of different things and…Kaboom! Toy Story fangirl moment!
So yeah, if you can't tell already, this will be really ramble-y. But I personally like rambles. What do you think of them? A/N
I have died everyday waiting for you,
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you,
For a thousand years,
I love you for a thousand more.
And all along I believed I would find you,
Time has brought your heart to me,
I have loved you for a thousand years,
I love you for a thousand more…
Woody choked back a sob as he watched Andy drive away, further and further, until the battered old car completely disappeared in the distance. He stared longingly at his past as it was ripped away from him.
He had been given at least eight years to prepare for this. He thought he would be ready for the heartache and misery. But he wasn't. It hit the cowboy like a truck, ripping through every fiber of his being.
Woody wondered if he could be brave enough for both himself and his family. Would he have to slap on a grin every morning, trying so hard to be happy that it became painful? Or would the happiness come naturally?
These thoughts continued to whip through Woody's mind as Buzz patted his shoulder, and the next few minutes were a blur. The sheriff didn't pay attention to what was going on, but he wasn't thinking either. It was almost a numb feeling spreading throughout his body. Was it shock or just sheer depression?
They were all put in Bonnie's room. Everyone was introduced to each other. Everyone was shown around. And then lots of different conversations.
Of course everyone noticed the distance in Woody's eyes. They all understood to a certain extent; being torn away from Andy was hard for them too. But no one could ever fathom the bond between Woody and Andy.
Woody had literally been there for everything; birth to toddler, toddler to preschooler, preschooler to fifth grader, middle school, and high school. All the cries in the middle of night from a wooden crib. He had been there for all the temper tantrums over silly things and the nerves of beginning school. And the only one who had the answers to Andy's awkward questions about emotions during puberty was the sheriff.
The cowboy wished he could've broken the rules one time. Just so he could talk to Andy. Truly talk, not just imaginary words from his owner.
And none of the toys could forget the horrific facial hair stage. Even Mr. Potato-head thought the chin strap was utterly ridiculous.
Woody continued to keep to himself as the evening turned into night. He could hear the soft snores of his old and new family in the background. He ran his plastic finger over the rough, cracked wood of the windowsill.
As he stared up at the stars, Woody wondered if Andy was staring at them too. He happened to know that Andy had just recently become very interested in constellations.
Even when Andy never played with them anymore, Woody still felt the connection between them. Like any best friends, the sheriff didn't think the link could ever be broken.
This afternoon when Andy had played with them, Woody felt a glimmer of hope that maybe Andy would package them all up, take them home, and the next day Andy would be a seven year-old again. But now Woody realized this was a very childish speculation.
Childish. The word rang in Woody's head like church bells on a Sunday morning. Andy used to be childish. Andy used to roll around in the mud and not care when his mother yelled at him. Andy used to steal cookies out of the cookie jar when no one was looking, stuff them under his shirt, and gallop up to his bedroom to snack on them. Andy used to cradle Woody in his right arm and Buzz in his left wherever he went.*
And now Woody realized he was afraid. His stomach turned at this. Afraid of eighteen years being carried away by the wind. Afraid that one day he might forget the face of Andy, or the golden stars against the sky blue paint in Andy's bedroom. Or the way he felt after he had rescued Bo Peep after a good hour of play.
Afraid of Bonnie never being as good as Andy.
The past eighteen years flashed before his eyes in an instant. Being lost, being rescued, and then the natural high of being brought back to Andy. Then there were those days where Andy was so sick that all he could do was lay in bed all day. Those were Woody's favorite; he felt needed most on those days for comfort.
And that was what a toy was for, after all. Being there as a friend; a best friend. Being a fraction of a child's heart until the fraction grew smaller and smaller. But that bit of the heart was never forgotten. Not really.
*I used to do this with a stuffed bunny and a stuffed cat I used to have. Their names were Bunny and Kitty, (very original), but I was so young that it was just one word- "Ki-bunny". *sigh* The good days.
A/N So yeah…Kinda short but I had to get it out or I would be depressed and never be able to fall asleep. At this point I'm about to go asleep, but I may add in a few more thoughts when I proofread this tomorrow before I post it. (Did that make sense?)
So thanks for reading! A/N