There was once a little boy with smiling brown eyes and flat brown hair who visited and played with Winnie the Pooh and his friends in the Hundred Acre Woods. Pooh, which is short for Winnie the Pooh, called him Christopher Robin, because that was his name. He laughed and sang and played Pooh sticks with them whenever he could. He was great at inventing fun new games for all of them to play together.

Whenever Pooh saw Christopher Robin coming into the Woods on his brilliant red race bike, he stopped what he was doing and toddled over to greet him. Pooh smiled up at him, filled to the brim with sweet, golden happiness, not unlike the sweet and sticky honey he loved so much.

Pooh was always very happy to see Christopher Robin. Whether it was along the reedy bank on a hot summer day as cool water rushed beside them and sprang at their feet, a snowy-white winter afternoon with snowflakes lazily floating to the ground, or a starry evening, Christopher Robin was always greeted by the golden bear's smile.

Autumn was nice. The trees were filled with bright colors and the wind was rather fresh and cool. Winter was when the land was blanketed with wonderful white and chill magic. Pooh loved trying to catch the snowflakes. Spring was filled with the sweet smells of things growing. Pooh liked all of these seasons, but the summertime was always the best. The Woods were buzzing with color and life and bees making their sweet nectar. The best part was that Christopher Robin could stay in the Woods all day long.

The seasons swirled around and around, adding up to years.

One day Pooh was seated upon the log in front of his house, which happened to be his very favorite thinking spot. He would sit, his brow crumpling and furrowing, hoping he looked wise enough for a wandering idea to want to pay him a visit. Christopher Robin came along the path and greeted him with the usual smile and "Hullo there, Pooh."

"You seem to be getting rather...tall," the bear of little brain noted, looking up into the familiar, albeit further away, face. He noticed that the boy had to bend down quite low to meet his eyes as they spoke.

"People tend to do that," Christopher Robin laughed carelessly. The idea crept on him then, though it was only a harmless shadow. The idea seemed rather unimportant then. When the leaves fell from the trees and Christopher Robin's visits became more and more infrequent, however, Pooh Bear began to wonder. And wonder. And wonder.

"Think. Think. Think." Pooh muttered to himself, jabbing his paw into his head. He mused for hours, it seemed, sitting in his thinking spot. Still, it couldn't be anything drastic; Christopher Robin would be back soon, smiling and making up new games.

Very often, he didn't come. In fact, one day he stopped coming to the Hundred Acre Woods altogether. Pooh and his friends missed him very much and came up with all sorts of ways to bring him back.

None of them succeeded. The heartbroken, little animals could not do anything about it. So, they went about their business without Christopher Robin, but they all felt as if there was a hole in their hearts. Tigger could not jump as high. Honey did not seem as tasty to Pooh, though a little smackeral every once in a while could not hurt. Eeyore was certainly more gloomy, as was everyone else.

It seemed like life would have kept going on like this, but for one thing. One day, another boy came to the Hundred Acre Woods. His hair was brown, like Christopher Robin's, but it refused to lie flat. It poked up playfully from his head. His eyes were blue and they sparkled when he laughed. He was much older than Christopher Robin, but he still believed in make-believe and talked of dream-worlds. His name was Sora. Though Pooh didn't know why, he thought it suited him perfectly.

Sora played and laughed with them. He didn't seem to have much free time, but he always stopped by to help out or play. He never came as often as that other boy had, but he always came. Sooner or later.

In time, they all learned to love the boy with the prickly hair and brilliant smile.

Over time, he was growing taller and taller and Pooh and his friends never changed. This bothered Pooh Bear, because he remembered something like this had happened to another friend he had had once.

One day, Sora stopped coming. He just...vanished. Pooh waited and waited, hoping to see his cheerful face, but he did not show up. Seconds became hours; hours melted into days; days grew into weeks; weeks faded into months and all those months formed an entire year.

Slowly but surely the heart forgets, though the slightest ache remains. Like when Pooh was eating honey and there was only a little bit left. He was sad because it would be gone soon, though there was still a teensy bit left. Though soon enough, all the honey was gone. Not even the slightest trace of a sweet memory stuck to the bottom of the pot.

Suddenly, as suddenly as he had disappeared, Sora was back.

He was the same as ever. He smiled, laughed and played. After awhile, though, Pooh felt something was wrong. He didn't want his dear friend to go away. He was afraid that every time he saw the boy waving goodbye with a large smile across his face would be the last time he ever saw him.

"Why, exactly, do you have to go?" He asked one day, as Sora walked away.

He gave the smallest sigh and flashed a wide yet tired smile.

"There are things I have to do, Pooh," he explained. His smile grew warm. "Don't worry. You can always see me. Anytime you want."

"How?" He looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Look right here." Sora poked the little bear's chest. "It always works for me."