Patchwork of memories!

I held the blanket tightly. The stress started to leave my body. I sat in the dark holding the blanket. My fingers searching, touching, feeling. I was calmer now. I started to smile. Amazing how fabric can comfort. Or was it more than the fabric?

My fingers came upon 2 holes. Oh I remember how my mom was so upset by these holes. But I needed to be Batman. How else can I be the Caped Crusader? My Mom was many things to me, but she never understood Super Heroes.

I fought Joker, Riddler and my fear of the dark with Batman. I can recall the care to wrap it on my head just so. Always had to get the slots aligned to my eyes.

My fingers searched the blanket some more. They came to flattened piece of fabric. Worn down by constant use. This is where the chair propped up my blanket as a tent. Dad had encouraged me to camp indoors. Mom didn't like the idea of going outside alone. So I sat under my blanket and imagined the stars above me. Sometimes Dad would let me have this flashlight and I'd do shadows on the wall.

The fingers searched the blanket some more and I felt caked chocolate. It made the fabric stiff. I used to go on picnics on my blanket. Mom had warned me to not eat on the blanket. But I threw caution to the wind and indulged. The result a stain that never came out but a sweet memory.

I was now relaxed and calm. The blanket always had a special ability. It used to protect me, to feed my imagination. Now it transports me to a simpler time. It was my most treasured possession.

"Dear are you almost ready?" The sound of my wife snapped me back to reality.

"Yes dear"

If she knew I'd kept this.

She came upon the blanket by accident on day.

"What's this??" she had said with a mix of disgust and amusement.

"Oh that's my patchwork of memories."

"I don't want this here. Look at it torn, worn down and stained."

How little did she know it was the warmest, coziest thing in the house.

I lovingly stowed away the blanket in it's secret spot.

"Coming dear."