The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

“One Christmas, I received an elegantly dressed toy rabbit as a gift. A few days later, I dreamed that the rabbit was facedown on the ocean floor — lost and waiting to be found. In telling the story, I was lost for a good while, too. And then, finally, like Edward, I was found.”

The girl smiled and then she stood on her tiptoes and took Edward off the shelf. She cradled him in her arms. She held him in the same ferocious, tender way Sarah Ruth had held him.

Oh, thought Edward, I remember this.

“Open your heart,” she said gently. “Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart.”

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless.

“I am done with being loved,” Edward told her. “I’m done with loving. It’s too painful.”

“Pish,” said the old doll. “Where is your courage

“I have lived one hundred years. And in that time, I have been in places that were heavenly and others that were horrid. After a time, you learn that each place is different. And you become a different doll in each place, too. Quite different.”

And in that time, I have been in places that were heavenly and others that were horrid. After a time, you learn that each place is different. And you become a different doll in each place, too. Quite different.”

Edward was the lone contrarian. He prided himself on not hoping, on not allowing his heart to lift inside of him. He prided himself on keeping his heart silent, immobile, closed tight.

I am done with hope, thought Edward Tulane.

“I have already been loved,” said Edward. “I have been loved by a girl named Abilene. I have been loved by a fisherman and his wife and a hobo and his dog. I have been loved by a boy who played the harmonica and by a girl who died. Don’t talk to me about love,” he said. “I have known love.”

Sarah Ruth! Abilene! Their names went through Edward’s head like the notes of a sad, sweet song.