My maternal grandfather had a wonderful imagination and a flair for the dramatic. From my earliest childhood memories, I can remember him reading my siblings, cousins and I stories such as The Three Billy Goats Gruff, complete with voices, or joining us in a rousing board game. But by far, our most favorite activity shared with Grandpa was searching for Winnie the Pooh.

My grandparents lived in rural northeast Indiana on a large plot of open land that stretched back a quarter of a mile to a wooded forest. This forest, he informed us, was the home of Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin and all their friends. He would walk us to the edge of the woods and help us call for them, trying to coax them out of hiding—they were very shy, you see. No matter how long we yelled, they never came, but we, and Grandpa, never tired of trying. Even as we grew, and came to understand the truth of the matter, we still carried on the tradition. And I suspect those of us that were older still enjoyed calling for Winnie the Pooh as much as our younger cousins. It was simply too much fun to play along with Grandpa’s game, for he seemed to get so much joy out of it.

 On my recent trip to the UK, I had the opportunity to visit Pooh’s Corner Shop and the real 100-Acre Wood, Ashdown Forest. It was here that AA Milne lived with his son Christopher Robin and wrote his beloved stories about Pooh Bear. You can hike past Eeyore’s Enchanted Place and Roo’s Sandy Pit, and even play a game of Poohsticks at the Poohsticks Bridge. We strolled through the wood and enjoyed the beauty of the forest, our ears perked for the sound of a child’s laughter and the warm, rumble of Pooh humming as he gathered honey. We heard neither, but if I listened close, I swore I could hear my Grandpa calling their names and chuckling with delight. 

It almost seemed like I was completing a journey for all of us. For a moment, I felt my Grandpa strolling the path beside me, the clack of his cane on the gravel below our feet, even though he has long since moved on to search for Pooh Bear in Heaven. The thought of him searching the forests with me, that mischievous sparkle in his eye, filled me with warmth and made me smile. And somehow I couldn’t resist opening my mouth to cry, “Winnie the Pooh, where are you?”