 Image from beautifulphotoprops.com I was talking with a friend on the phone yesterday evening, and in the course of our conversation I told him "my house is full of things, nice things, that don't really matter...they're just stuff." My statement, while very true, does not tell the entire story...as is often the case in my world. You see, as long as those close to me, those in my Tribe are safe and happy, that is the real value in my life, but my home is filled with bits and pieces of memories of those who've come and gone. The little blue blanket is a perfect example...
As I got up this morning and put myself together for the day, I walked past the little blue blanket still draped over the back of my sofa. I touched the soft material and lifted it, bringing it to my nose for a long sniff...it smells like the tiny human I wrap it around when he comes to visit. It never fails...when my grandson comes to see me, I get the blanket of his that stays at Nana's house, wrap him in it and snuggle for as long as he will allow. Then, once his Mama has taken him home, I leave it for days where I can see it frequently. Every time I look at it, I think of the boy who will outgrow it soon enough and the boy who'll never see it, the son I lost who won't get a chance to be a man. This "thing" that lives in my house, this little blue blanket...I wouldn't take a million dollars for it. Hell, I wouldn't take ten million dollars for it. It has become a deep-rooted symbol of people I've lost and people I've gained, and how does one put a price tag on that? Before the weekend, I'll stash that blanket back up in the bedroom I've come to think of as Colin's room, out of sight but never far from my thoughts. And then when he returns for a visit, out it will come and go back to its resting place on the back of my sofa for however many days I decide to soak up the euphoria it exudes from those soft, blue fibers of cloth. I'll think to myself, "stuff doesn't matter" and almost hear my unborn son whisper, "Uh huh...sure, mommy. Then what's with the blanket?"
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About The Author
I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter. Archives
August 2021
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