Write About a Blanket

It was a quilt that I bought after he broke up with me. I got up one Saturday morning and stared at the bedding surrounding me in the bed where I lost my virginity months before. Soft cotton sheets and a thick blue comforter wrapped around us when he stayed over, and that morning I knew that I couldn’t sleep in that bedding another night.

I went to Sears and wandered around the linens department. Luckily, the store was holding its annual “white sale,” and I had a Sears credit card because God knows I didn’t have the money in my bank account.

I didn’t want another comforter. Comforters are too hot sometimes no matter what the season. I wanted something home-y, something comforting, and I found a quilt. It had a star pattern of light blues and pinks and peaches on a soft, creamy background. It was perfect.

I also bought a set of smooth, crisp cream-colored sheets, but that quilt was the ultimate purchase. I bought two other quilts after that one, but neither held up like “The Rock Hill Quilt” has. One quilt that I bought right after moving back to Greenville lasted less than six months. Another quilt I purchased when I moved back out on my own again has held up okay, but not as well as The Rock Hill Quilt.

It may be only bedding, but it seems as if the patches of material have been reinforced with my stubbornness to survive, to move on, to leave the past behind — where it belongs.

Perhaps this quilt will be the one that will last for decades. It will be the roof of the makeshift tent our future children will create in the dining room. It wil be what they drag out of the linen closet to curl up in on the couch on a cold Saturday morning to watch cartooons. Perhaps it will be what they fight over when the winter nights require extra bedding.

Perhaps I put too much emphasis on a thing made of scraps and thread and stuffing, but it was such an important purchase that spring morning. It became a sign that I would eventually be okay.


5 thoughts on “Write About a Blanket

Add yours

  1. I enjoyed reading this and identified with your blanket story. Sometimes it’s these small, mundane objects that make loss so poignant and make healing foreseeable.

    My own blanket was a woven tapestry that hung behing my bed. I spent hours obsessively picking out the blonde hairs of my former lover which had become tangled in with the wool.


  2. I should write a post about my blanket. I had a security blanket for many years and now I have a quilt (my mom made me of my t-shirts) that has replaced it.


  3. Girl, I could not be more proud of you than I am right at this very moment. I was just catching up on some of your blogs,because I have been so wrapped up in my own world lately, I have barely had time to read. Thank you for taking me out of my world for even a small minute second. Your writing amazes me, and I am so thankful to know you.


Thoughts, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: