The Blanket


It was the year20140611_114409 of 1976. I remember it like it was yesterday, granted, I’m an inanimate object, so, time is truly irrelevant. I can remember the cloth being cut, small squares, dozens of them, by old hands, placed into neat little square piles. All the piles were gathered together, then slowly, two of each square were attached together, then another one, and slowly, after a fair amount of time (again, I am a horrible judge of that), the top of me was done. Patchworked all around. Then, I had my name attached to me. Todd 1976. A back of terry cloth was attached and I was complete. Folded, placed in a box, that box wrapped and ribboned, and then that wrapped, ribboned box with me in it was put under a glowing tree, full of lights.Then the day came, were my new best friend freed me from that box. He was small, blonde, face full of freckles and smiling.

I remember that smile.

I remember how he pulled me out of my trappings and held me up. There was a flash of light. He looked me over, saw my name and said “Hey, that’s my name!” Wouldn’t you know, we had the same name, I knew, at that moment, we would be best friends for life.

I remember the nights when the storms would come, he would pull me tight up over his shoulders, I was there to protect him from those bright flashes and the roaring sky. Or the really dark nights when the weird noises would sound through the house and he would pull his feet and hands inside, tucking his head underneath. I stood watch, shielding him from that boogeyman that was determined to get to him. Or the nights when the older people would yell and slam things, I would make sure he was comforted and held tight. When things got to be too much, I was there to dry his tears.

All that was a long time ago, or so I think. Time and my years as his protector have taken their toll on me. My back is now torn open and needing repair. The terry cloth having split after such a long life of defending and comforting my friend. And even though he has grown up, and he no longer needs me to protect him, he has held onto me.

You see, these days, our roles have reversed. Now, he protects me, keeping me safe, tucked away in a box up on a shelf high above, where the things I once defended him from can no longer get at me and cause me harm.

But, from my shelf, I can still see him, sleeping at night, and even though he may not need me anymore, he knows that I am always ready to protect him again, if ever the need arise.

Because, I am his blanket.

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