My Blankie

I share a lot of personal information and insights on my blog. Perhaps no post story has been more intimate a revelation than this one will be.

I love my blankie.

There – I’ve said it. It’s good to get it out of the closet.

I’ve loved my blankie as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories involve my blankie.

My blankie gave me comfort and warmth since I was a baby.

I love the feel of my blankie. Only my blankie feels the way it does. It is a unique texture that I could pick out blindfolded from 100 other blankets.

My blankie is about 3 foot long by 2 foot wide. It’s not very big, but for a baby or toddler, it always came thru big.

And, maybe the most embarrassing part of my blankie story is – it’s pink. I don’t know why it’s pink. I asked my mom and she doesn’t know why it was pink. Don’t boys usually get blue blankies? But it was ok with me when I was a kid that it was pink. And I’m ok with it now that I’m a man. I’m not ashamed of blankie.

My blankie served me well.

I have a vivid memory of waking up cold and scared in the dark one night when I was maybe 3 or 4 years old and going over to a floor heat register and pulling my blanket over me and the register to keep the heat in and keep me warm and comforted. I fell asleep there, safe and warm and comforted thanks to my blankie.

My blankie was fun too and often served as a cape when I would play superheroes with my brother and cousin, tying one end around my neck and letting the other end fly in the breeze as I ran or flew around. With my blankie, and my imagination, I could fly.

As often happens, my blankie fell by the wayside as I was growing up.

But I never forgot my blankie.

And I still have it.

Well, I still have most of it.

You see, there is a small corner of my blankie that is missing. It’s not AWOL. It wasn’t stolen. It was given away, and I know exactly where it is.

When we lost a child to miscarriage, an event I wrote about in another blog post entitled Saint Callistus Ember Novick, I cut off a corner of my beloved blankie, the corner you see missing in the photo above, and had it buried with our baby in a grave over where my mother-in-law is buried. I was deeply grieved by the loss of that baby, and wanted to give that soul something I loved that was warming and comforting to be with it for eternity. Callie has a piece of blankie with him/her right now.

My blankie came in handy for me later too. When I was going through a very painful time experiencing the anguish and pain of divorce, I brought out my blankie again and many nights held it close in the night. That familiar feel of my blankie was a comfort to me like it had been so many years before.

Blankie is in a safe and nearby place now. No, I don’t sleep with it anymore, but knowing it’s nearby if ever I should need it is a real comfort.

That old rag is of little use to anyone else.

But to me it is a priceless treasure.

And, when I die, I hope they bury blankie with me. I imagine then I’ll know everything will be ok.