Blue Blankin

 

When I was a baby, besides being freakin’ adorable, I had a security blanket name Blue Blankin. Blue was a comfort for me when times got scary or stressful. I could wrap myself up in her and I felt safe. It is incredible that a small crochet blanket would become such an important part of my life.   And yes, I know that I am capitalizing her name grammar police, she is a person to me, not an object!

As blue and I grew up, I learned how to take care of her… like if I took her outside of my house, she lost her magic. When I pressed Blue against my cheek and took a deep breath, it wasn’t the same. Not to mention that although I wanted to carry her with me everywhere, my mom reminded me that she could get hurt… or even worse, disappear! So on my bed she stayed as I headed off to school… well except when the Fire Department came to our school and talked to us about the dangers of fire. You think that I would leave her at home to burn when our house went up in flames? Pshaw!

As time passed, my parents started to get concerned that my attachment to Blue Blankin was becoming abnormal. I wasn’t growing out of feeling like I couldn’t go to sleep at night without her. Or the fact that my mom would have to distract me to put blue into the washing machine because she was filthy and I would freak out and run to save her before she drowned.

I was 15 years old when I was asked to stay at a local hotel to babysit for one of my mom’s co-workers. The stay was overnight, and everything was going as planned until I left Blue in the hotel bed to take the kids to the pool. After playing for the afternoon, we returned back to the room only to find that housekeeping had come and cleaned our suite, stripping the beds and yep, you guessed it, Blue was gone! I frantically ran to the office.

I say, while holding back tears, “I… I mean…the kids I am babysitting left their baby blanket in their bed and now it’s missing.” The woman turned to another worker and said something in Spanish. She then turns to me and says, “No blankets here”. It is then that I spot Blue Blankin folded up in a stack of linens. I point and shout, “There she is!” The woman looked at the pile of bleached, iron pressed sheets weighing down on Blue and says, “No, that’s a rag.”

How dare you?! She is not a rag! I defend my claim and assured her that the “rag” she was referring to was my… I mean the kid’s… blanket. She shrugs her shoulders and hand me TWO pieces of my precious Blue Blankin. The large industrial washing machines ripped her right in half. I felt like I was in a dream as I carry the traumatized parts of my childhood back the room. When I got home, my mom tried to calm me by convincing me that now do I not only have Blankin, but I also have a travel-size version of her too. But the reality is I’m still dealing with this horrifying memory in therapy to this day.

As I got older, my bond stayed strong with Blue. My parents even tried to point out that it’s unreasonable to continue needing to have her with me every night. They would say, “What’s going to happen when I get married and have kids of my own? Are you still going to have Blankin in bed with you?” Ummmm… duh! Of course I would. I would just need to find a man who would accept my attachment to her.

You may ask, now that I am somewhat of an adult, do I still have Blue Blankin? While she may not look like the same vibrant blanket that she was in her younger years, (she’s actually is just knotted up chunks of crochet) she is still providing me comfort. As she has aged, I occasionally will find pieces of her on the floor or in my bed. But to just throw those parts of Blue away seems criminal, so I collect them and keep them in a safe place. I have included a recent picture of Blue Blankin , but out of respect for her fragile state, I didn’t use the flash. You see, 30-some-odd-years of comforting a sick little girl can really age you.

Now I don’t think that I am alone here… hopefully! But I am curious, do any of you have a blanket, teddy bear, or other item that brings you comfort?