The Blanket

It has taken me some to write this into words, but writing can heal the heart. I apologize for the lack of eloquence in words.  Writing is not my strength...

Growing up, we would go to auction sales of our deceased relatives.  My mom would always buy something that she could hold on to remember her relatives.  I remember one sale in particular and she really wanted this old fashion baby buggy.  It is pretty cool, from her aunt and uncles.  She dressed up in a parade with her siblings with it and she has such wonderful memories. If I remember right an antique collector was bidding against her until, he realized it was family and gave in.  We came home with this large beautiful baby buggy. My sister and I made porcelain dolls through 4-H, and many of them through our hands were placed in the buggy in the window of our dining room.  My mom also has this beautiful cabinet from my grandma's house and a couple of special chairs from relatives as well.  Another neat addition to my parents home is my dad's father's desk.  It has such character and fits just perfectly in the corner.

As our dining room got tighter and tighter with these special heirlooms, I made comments and sly remarks to my parents.  "Why do you need all this stuff? You have your memories to remember your loved ones.  Why do you need the stuff?"  I was harsh and told them to just let it go.  Of course, the immaturity of me wasn't met with a hard head, and they just let the words fly in the air and go.
Then there is this blanket...my Aunt Anita made for me a few Christmases ago.  She remembered my favorite color green, and it is so soft and warm.  I would occasionally take this blanket and wrap it around my legs for warmth as I read a book with a dim light before bed.

Flash forward...I've recently lost this special someone.  She was a remarkable women full of love, passion, and kindness.  I always said I wanted to be a children's librarian someday just like her.  It would be my dream job!  Then the week of her passing, in our classroom our story was "Tomas and the Library Lady."  It took every part of me to read the story that week, as I reflected on all the "Tomas kids" she touched as she worked tirelessly with the students from area schools in Sterling.

Now this blanket is no longer just a "blanket", but a comforter and healer for me as I wrap it tightly around me at night thinking of all the wonderful times I've had with her.  I've become protective of it as I don't want anyone else to touch it. Every time I flip the page of a children's book she gave me, which I either have at home or in my classroom, I think of her reading the words off the page. I couldn't imagine anyone else having these books.  I had to stop myself, as I said this is crazy, and then I thought of all the beautiful furniture items at my parents house.  How quickly I was to judge, when now I'm doing the same thing.

I know I don't need the blanket to keep all those beautiful memories tucked away in my mind, but there is just something about it to help make the connection.

So to my parents...keep your "blankets" for as long as you need them.  I can handle the clutter of a house.