Journal Prompt

Write About a Quilt or a Blanket

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I have a pink Snuggie neatly folded in the bottom drawer of my guest bedroom.  It was meant to be placed out of sight and hopefully mind.  My mother, younger sister and I had a matching set.  One for each in our own respective homes. 

 After my mother’s death I would sit in her den for hours wrapped in her blanket.  Her scent still fresh I placed my arms in the sleeves which once held her own.  I can still see her on the sofa laughing at something funny or hiding from a frightening movie on television.  Her blanket neatly folded and placed back in the ottoman until next time. 

After her funeral I found myself repeating the same behavior as my mother.  Using my own blanket for comfort of the loss I’d endured.  For the next year and a half my blanket never left my sofa.  Only to be washed, dried, refolded and returned to its intended place.  It absorbed the tears of grief and laughs of memories we shared over coffee at her kitchen table.

In time I came to realize that this object which once brought comfort had become a source of pain.  I became saddened every time I wrapped myself in it.  “How many other objects in my home reminded me of my mother” I wondered?  It was time to let go of the grief.  I knew that blanket held too many reminders of the love held between my mother and I.

For now, it’s not too far away. Neatly tucked away in a room I rarely use.  It’s there if I need it, but I know that I’m strong just as she was and because of that I won’t be using it any time soon.

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