As children, a doll, a stuffed animal or imaginary friend provided us security and constant companionship as we braved the dark and the monster under the bed. As adults, we give up the emotional support tokens of our youth in preparation for becoming the comforter instead of the comfortee.
I don’t recall having a special item that consoled me when I was growing up. But then, at 47, in my darkest hours in a Philadelphia hospital, a blanket arrived, couriered by my husband, sent by a dear friend. I could not see it but it was soft and felt like home. The nurses who cared for me all admired it and described its colors and snowmen to me. They seemed to understand that it was so much more than something to keep me warm.
A movement had been occurring as friends and co-workers sent well wishes from 50 miles away. Some visited but those who couldn’t were still in that room with me. I had never experienced such a force of positive energy, not even when I lost my mom five months before. And the blanket reminds me of that outpouring to this day.
If you ever want to do something wonderful for someone in the hospital, a blanket is the ultimate thoughtful gesture. It will be appreciated by the recipient long after their discharge.
I carefully balance the blanket’s usage and preservation and it has held up well. The other evening I slept on the couch. I know, I know, that’s his spot. But it wasn’t a marital tiff, it was severe winds and wanting to make sure our parrot, Piper, wasn’t scared throughout the night. As I pulled the blanket over me, I hoped it will last forever. Because even though you left braces and the boogeyman behind you a long, long time ago, you are never too old to wrap yourself in love.
