Caida got her blanket 3 days after she was born. Her grandmother bought it for her at Macy's. It was light pink cotton, 3 feet by 3 feet, with white satin trim around the edges. When Caida's parents took her home from the hospital, they swaddled her in the blanket, wrapping up her tiny toes to protect them from the autumn air.
The blanket slept with Caida every night in her crib. The blanket seemed to have a warmth entirely of its own, as if it were alive, blood pulsing through the treads. She couldn't sleep without her blanket. So whenever milk was spilled or pureed peas were smeared onto the soft square of fabric, which was all too often, it could only be washed between the hours of 10 AM to noon, and 3PM to 4PM.
When Caida learned to walk, she kept her blanket in her hand and dragged it around with her. Where ever she went, Caida's blanket trailed behind her like the train of a wedding dress. The pink started to fade into a white color, because of so much bleaching. Caida didn't know about taking care of her possessions, but she knew she loved her blanket and wanted to take it everywhere.
Caida's first word was “drop,” but her second was “blanket.” It sounded more like “bankup,” but as she said it, she pointed to her square of faded fabric.
Caida moved out of her crib and into a “big girl bed.” She liked to keep her blanket at the bottom, under the covers, tangled around her feet. She didn't want her blanket to fall off the bed and become a snack for the monster under her mattress, or her cat.
When Caida began elementary school, she kissed her blanket goodbye every morning before leaving the house. She missed it at nap time, and stared at the ceiling tiles because she still couldn't sleep without it.
In middle school, Caida started to get invited to sleepovers. Ashamed of her habit of sleeping with a blanket, she hid it in the bottom of her sleeping bag, and rubbed it between her toes it was time to go to sleep.
When Caida reached high school, her blanket was falling apart. The satin trim was separated from the cotton on three sides, and there were holes in the middle from where she would rub the fabric. The blanket had lost most of it's warmth over the years. In 9th grade, Caida's parents went through a divorce. She would cover her ears with her blanket at night, to muffle the sounds of her parents fighting.
Caida is in college now, and most of the blanket is in a landfill somewhere. Despite countless attempts to sew it back together, it was worn beyond repair. Still, though, Caida kept a shred of the satin trim, and carries it with her in her coat pocket.
