___________________________________________________________________
Bio of a Baby Blanket
I’m not sure where I was born or where I spent the early
days of my life, though I do know that I was created by someone. The first real
memory I have is being inside a dark space, then suddenly I hear some noises
and I see a bright light (though not so bright that I was blinded). I remember
being held up and shown off. I am 28 inches by 37 inches and yellow with tigers,
sheep, and giraffes on me (the animals are a weird combination, I know). I was
a baby shower gift for Janet, who was currently pregnant with the person that I
would become so special to. I was not the most popular item that day, and Janet
didn’t want to use me, but April sought me out. She picked me as her favorite.
She wanted to love me.
During my early years, I followed April around from her different homes, (life of an Air Force brat) doing the normal things that a blanket like myself did (though I do not do normal things now). She slept with me every night and used me to wrap her dolls (I wrap a much different thing now). She cuddled with me on the couch and took me with her to sleepovers. We were inseparable.
As the years went on, April started to grow and change (which she is still doing). She didn’t play with her dolls anymore and I often landed under the bed, as she kicked me off during the night. Her bed was white with gold trim and very princess like. It was a twin size and when April hit double digits in age, her feet used to hang over the edge (hence the being kicked off). When we turned 11 years old, there was a major change in our lives. This was the year she got a new bed. It was a full size, solid pine bed with drawers under it (that is still her bed to this day). I was so excited for the drawers under the bed! That meant no more falling underneath it. But then the worst possible thing happened. April stopped sleeping with me. Was this the end for me? Was I not going to be loved anymore?
From that moment on, and for the next few years, I hung on the footboard collecting dust and watched April’s life go by. She grew up; graduated from 8th grade, then from high school. Soon, she was packing for college. Would she take me with her? As I watched her pack her things, she removed me from the end of the bed and threw me in the wash. Yeah! I was getting cleaned before I headed to Western CT State with her. How awesome for me, I was going to college. I came out of the dryer, all warm and toasty (a feeling I am now able to feel again), and I got folded. But I didn’t go in her suitcase; I headed into a closet. A cold, dark, and lonely closet, where I sat on a shelf next to Barbies and Legos that I hadn’t seen in years. At 18 years of age, the end of my life seemed near.
Years go by before I will next see the full light of day. April returned home from Western after only a year, due to grade issues (she never was the best student, and still isn’t). She moved back into her room and I saw brief pieces of light when the closet opens, but I was never removed from my spot on the shelf. At the age of 21, April moved out of her room and into an apartment. As she packed to move, I was removed from the shelf and put in a box (boxes are as bad as closets). I moved with her to the apartment, but I never left the box. After a year she returned home to her parents, but I didn’t go with her. I stayed in my box and headed into storage (to this day I have been to two different storages places). I could tell it was storage by the unpleasant smell. This whole process repeated itself at the ages of 24 and 28. At least she hadn’t gotten rid of me.
At 28, I was taken out of my box and moved into a wooden chest with the rest of her blankets (still in the dark). But then something changed. I heard April crying all the time and she is rarely got much sleep. This was not my April. She was not happy. The home we were in was cold and dark and a very unhappy place. April now lived the same life I did: cold, dark, and lonely. I started to worry about her. I heard her talking on the phone to her mom a few times a day, and the calls were very sad. One day we had gotten a visitor. It was Christmas time (based on the music I heard) and April’s mom had come to visit. One day April and her mom left the apartment only to return a few hours later carrying a lot of items. Since I was stuck in my chest, I was not sure what the items were. There was a lot of excitement and activity coming from them. Whatever it was, April was happy again. It was the happiest I had heard her in awhile. What made her so pleased?
I saw a bright light (though not so bright that I was blinded) as the lid to my chest was opened. April pulled me out and held me up to show me off. I saw a bunch of bags all around the apartment and something gray sitting on the floor in a ball. April folded me up and laid me near to the gray ball. It began to move and walked over to me. Oh, it was a kitten. April patted me and said to the cat “This is your new blanket. Welcome home, Gryffin.” What was this? Was I getting a new owner? I heard April refer to the cat as her son, so I guess I was passed on to the next generation. Gryffin was warm and cuddly and I was reminded of when April was young. She was happy, which made me happy (there was a long time were I wasn’t so happy). And I saw the light. And I was warm.
Now at the age of 29 (give or take a few months), I spend my days getting chewed on, slept on, and just plan walked on. I am happy that I am being used (instead of being stuck in a dark place); even if the teeth and nails are sharp. At least I am loved and I feel useful. My new playmate cannot talk to me (at least not in the traditional sense), but he is warm and playful and cuddly. I won’t be wrapped around any of his toys and I won’t be used every night. But I am loved once again.
During my early years, I followed April around from her different homes, (life of an Air Force brat) doing the normal things that a blanket like myself did (though I do not do normal things now). She slept with me every night and used me to wrap her dolls (I wrap a much different thing now). She cuddled with me on the couch and took me with her to sleepovers. We were inseparable.
As the years went on, April started to grow and change (which she is still doing). She didn’t play with her dolls anymore and I often landed under the bed, as she kicked me off during the night. Her bed was white with gold trim and very princess like. It was a twin size and when April hit double digits in age, her feet used to hang over the edge (hence the being kicked off). When we turned 11 years old, there was a major change in our lives. This was the year she got a new bed. It was a full size, solid pine bed with drawers under it (that is still her bed to this day). I was so excited for the drawers under the bed! That meant no more falling underneath it. But then the worst possible thing happened. April stopped sleeping with me. Was this the end for me? Was I not going to be loved anymore?
From that moment on, and for the next few years, I hung on the footboard collecting dust and watched April’s life go by. She grew up; graduated from 8th grade, then from high school. Soon, she was packing for college. Would she take me with her? As I watched her pack her things, she removed me from the end of the bed and threw me in the wash. Yeah! I was getting cleaned before I headed to Western CT State with her. How awesome for me, I was going to college. I came out of the dryer, all warm and toasty (a feeling I am now able to feel again), and I got folded. But I didn’t go in her suitcase; I headed into a closet. A cold, dark, and lonely closet, where I sat on a shelf next to Barbies and Legos that I hadn’t seen in years. At 18 years of age, the end of my life seemed near.
Years go by before I will next see the full light of day. April returned home from Western after only a year, due to grade issues (she never was the best student, and still isn’t). She moved back into her room and I saw brief pieces of light when the closet opens, but I was never removed from my spot on the shelf. At the age of 21, April moved out of her room and into an apartment. As she packed to move, I was removed from the shelf and put in a box (boxes are as bad as closets). I moved with her to the apartment, but I never left the box. After a year she returned home to her parents, but I didn’t go with her. I stayed in my box and headed into storage (to this day I have been to two different storages places). I could tell it was storage by the unpleasant smell. This whole process repeated itself at the ages of 24 and 28. At least she hadn’t gotten rid of me.
At 28, I was taken out of my box and moved into a wooden chest with the rest of her blankets (still in the dark). But then something changed. I heard April crying all the time and she is rarely got much sleep. This was not my April. She was not happy. The home we were in was cold and dark and a very unhappy place. April now lived the same life I did: cold, dark, and lonely. I started to worry about her. I heard her talking on the phone to her mom a few times a day, and the calls were very sad. One day we had gotten a visitor. It was Christmas time (based on the music I heard) and April’s mom had come to visit. One day April and her mom left the apartment only to return a few hours later carrying a lot of items. Since I was stuck in my chest, I was not sure what the items were. There was a lot of excitement and activity coming from them. Whatever it was, April was happy again. It was the happiest I had heard her in awhile. What made her so pleased?
I saw a bright light (though not so bright that I was blinded) as the lid to my chest was opened. April pulled me out and held me up to show me off. I saw a bunch of bags all around the apartment and something gray sitting on the floor in a ball. April folded me up and laid me near to the gray ball. It began to move and walked over to me. Oh, it was a kitten. April patted me and said to the cat “This is your new blanket. Welcome home, Gryffin.” What was this? Was I getting a new owner? I heard April refer to the cat as her son, so I guess I was passed on to the next generation. Gryffin was warm and cuddly and I was reminded of when April was young. She was happy, which made me happy (there was a long time were I wasn’t so happy). And I saw the light. And I was warm.
Now at the age of 29 (give or take a few months), I spend my days getting chewed on, slept on, and just plan walked on. I am happy that I am being used (instead of being stuck in a dark place); even if the teeth and nails are sharp. At least I am loved and I feel useful. My new playmate cannot talk to me (at least not in the traditional sense), but he is warm and playful and cuddly. I won’t be wrapped around any of his toys and I won’t be used every night. But I am loved once again.
