My mom and dad were married two years before I was born. One of the wedding gifts they received was a blue blanket. That blue blanket became my blanket some time when I was very young. I remember that blanket being on my bed at every house we had when I was a kid. It was a fort wall, a curtain, a source of warmth and a hideaway. That blanket stayed with me in Indiana when half my family drove away, and came with me when I followed them six months later. It went with me to college, and was with me afterward from apartment to apartment, job to job, Southern to Northern California.
It went into the closet a decade or so ago, an auxiliary blanket maybe for the dog if she needed one (she didn't) or a guest on a cold night. It came out maybe once before being moved to the garage, and eventually found again five years ago. I washed it and put it in the guest room dresser, one of several blankets available should a guest need it.
While putting away the guest room sheets last night, I found the blanket tucked in the dresser drawer.
I pulled it out and put it, still folded, on the bed.
Later, after I undressed for bed, I wrapped the blanket around me, climbed into bed, and with the feel of childhood along my skin, slept soundly for the first time in many months.