Blankets

The first blanket I loved was polka-dotted with Scooby-Doo heads. It was only his head above the turquoise collar, and he had a bouquet of yellow daffodils in his mouth. At first the background was a hot pink but wash and wear turned it to a faded pastel, nearly white. White lace trimmed the edges, and at one point it had cotton batting with yarn dotted throughout it tied in little bows to hold the batting in place, but just like the color, it too faded. I watched my mom sew me this Scooby-Doo blanket. I nearly pulled it out of the sewing machine just as she knotted the last few stitches. I carried that blanket everywhere with me around the house, wearing it as a cape, playing house with it, or simply holding it in my arms. The small amount of time I wasn’t with it, I’d watch it spin around the washing machine for what seemed at the time like an eternity. When I was five, it traveled with me from Alaska to Utah tucked safely away in my backpack as I’d ventured through the airport. This blanket was threadbare and nearly rags by the time I was twelve, hardly resembling the color or texture it’d first been.

The second blanket I loved was a twin-sized comforter, a sky blue dimpled minky fabric on top, and a simple blue cotton underside. It was sewn to have one-foot checkers full of cotton batting and they quickly bunched up to be wads of cotton instead of panels. This blanket I only carried from my room upstairs to the living room downstairs, not venturing far from the stairwell that connected the two. This blanket never lost its color, though it gained one when I accidentally got the corner in my dad’s bowl of burnt almond fudge ice cream. This one lasted through junior high, though didn’t make it to high school.

During high school I didn’t have a blanket that I loved, which is coincidentally when I had the worst time with my insomnia.

The blanket I currently love is a tan and white ‘monster’-sized Minky Couture. Both sides are a fake beige mink fur, and it’s about as tall and wide as I am when sprawled out. I got it for Christmas my first year at college, and I’ve taken it with me everywhere I’ve spent the night. It’s traveled with me to St. George, Louisiana, on two cruises with my parents, California, Wyoming, and most recently a Writing Center conference in California I was presenting at, always rolled tight and tucked away in my bag. My brothers always complain about it on road trips when it’s set on the floor in a pillowcase at my feet. I’d leave it behind in the safety of my bedroom, but it's nearly impossible for me to sleep without it.