Week 6, autobiographical 'slice' & imagination

As a small girl I didn’t love anything more than my Barbie dolls, my My Little Pony and a bright pink Holly Hobbie blanket. This blanket was the only pink thing I didn’t hate.  I would pack it for every sleep over and I never seemed to think it was an issue. I was never ashamed or felt weird that I wanted piece of home with me. I slept with well into middle school. The only reason I don’t sleep with it now because it’s fall apart.

Sometime during my freshman year in high school I was yard saling with my mother and found the same soft fabric that my Holly blanket was made of. You would have thought I had just struck gold, but I felt like I did. I got about ten yards of four different colored fabrics for $5.00, it was great. I gave the material to my Grandmother, she made my first blanket and I wanted her make my second one. There isn’t anything better that have a little bit of love added to something. I remember the day she gave me that blanket, my next chapter.

This was the blanket I had when graduated from high school, when I moved in with my first boyfriend. This is the blanket that went on our honeymoon with us; it was in the hospital with me when I had my son. Over the year it really started showing its age. It was just wearing out. I had my Grandmother repair it over and over again till the day I was told that was the last patch job that could be done. With every wash after that it would rip a little bit more and the stuffing started falling out. When one piece of material goes through so much, how can you pack it in a closet with all the blankets that didn’t make the cut?   

During the years that followed I had purchased so many different small throw blankets trying to replace the ones before. I had to settle for characterless blankets, they were comfortable and warm. But never felt special. Till 3 Christmas ago, when my sister gave me my current blanket. It wasn’t home made but it was pretty close. She told me that the minute she saw it, she knew it would be perfect for me. It just happened to be my two favored colors, green and brown. It made me feel grounded and loved. You can’t ask for anything more. This blanket rings in my next chapter, or we could call it phase three.  

My Grandmother is 82 now and she just can’t sew like she use too.  With each new blanket comes a new phase in my life. First was young and bright, next came colorful and complicated, then a few years of blankets that just didn’t fell right and now I have a blanket helped me find my roots. I know this isn’t my last one, but that’s ok I love each one differently and I know I will love the next one just as much.