When I was little I stole a blanket my Grandma Turner had made for one of Sara’s dolls. I don’t remember what intrigued me so much about this particular blanket but whatever it was, it made me want it enough to risk the wrath of Sara once she realized I took it. She must not have cared too much because I’m still alive and the blanket is still mine.
I know it’s silly to still be attached to something so childish, especially having just finished my freshmen year of college, but honestly, I don’t care. My blankie and me have been through so much together it just doesn’t make any sense to leave him behind. It just doesn’t seem fair. He’s my source of comfort. Even after all these years. You’d think I would have grown out of it and moved on but nope. He’s been with me through it all, and will continue to be.
Ever since I was little I have loved soft things. When I’m in a store and a something looks soft, I don’t even try to fight the urge to touch it, before I can even think about it my hand is already glued to it. I think this strange little phenomenon all started with my blankie. I don’t know where I got this idea but I would suck on my tongue and rub a specific corner of my blankie constantly. The tongue sucking caused a lot of dental issues later down the line and luckily I have grown out of that but I still find myself finding anything soft and stroking it. My go to places are my bottom lip when it is smooth and if not there, then the little crevasse under my nose above my lip. For whatever reason doing that just soothes me. Strange I know.
When I was little he was more then just a sense of comfort, he was anything I wanted him to be. He was my magic carpet, my headdress, my fancy princess skirt, my superman cape, and so much more. We went on so many adventures together. We went any and everywhere. He is the best travel buddy.
|I think it's safe to say that I was an odd child.|
Now that I’m 19 years old we don’t play as much make believe, but he is one of my first choices for comfort. I honestly don’t even know why he is so special to me but I have a couple guesses.
|Even my Dad found it comforting.|
My first guess is because my cute Grandma Turner made him. She passed away a few years ago and my blankie is the only tangible thing I have left of her. She was such a strong and simply wonderful woman. When she found out that I loved that blanket enough to have the cleaning ladies think it was an old dirty rag that they could throw away she made me a new identical blanket. I was reluctant to use it so my sneaky mom sowed the two blankets together forcing me to use it. Now both blankets have been loved to pieces.
My second guess is because he has been there for me through all the tough times in my life. Through every illness, discomfort, and mishap he was there. After I found out my mom had breast cancer I remember going straight to my cabin and clinging tight to my blankie trusting he would help me through this. And he did. After I tore my ACL my senior year as soon as I got in bed that night I grabbed my blankie searching for the same comfort he had offered me so many other times in my life. And now as I struggle through the challenging decisions ahead of me I cling to my blankie with the same faith that I’ll receive the same comfort I’ve been blessed with my whole life.
My third guess is that my blankie is one of the only constant things in my life right now. I think I transitioned pretty well from high school to college but I’d be lying if I said it was easy. It was those nights where I missed home so bad that I once again clung to my blankie knowing he would get me through the night. Which he always did.
Now like I said before, I know it’s silly to be to attached to something so childish, but I don’t care. Some people look to music, books, food, or whatever for comfort, but I look to my childhood, and now adulthood, best friend, which just so happens to be a blanket.