If My Blue Blankets Could Talk

We’re still doing this, hunh? Here you are; 20 years old and still snuggling with me and Little Bluey in this bed like we’re the most loving creatures in the world. You woke up this morning with a terrible migraine, threw up twice and now you are laying down for a rest. As always, we are your chosen sleep buddies. In this moment, we lay here wrapped in each other’s love like we have at least a thousand times before and memories come flooding back to me. Little Bluey and I have loved you ever since the day you first looked at us.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Mom and Dad bought little Bluey before you were born and brought you home from the hospital as a newborn wrapped up in him like a burrito. But I remember the look in your eyes on your small and chubby young face the moment grandma gifted me to you as a birthday present. At that time, she thought Little Bluey was getting too small for you. Low and behold, you started loving both of us, calling us Big Bluey and Little Bluey because you couldn’t pronounce anything else. I still remember the first night you slept with us. Back then, we were just two cheap purchases from the clearance aisle of Babies-R-Us. The whole family started calling you Linus after the kid in Peanuts.

You sleep with us every night, save for when we’re in the wash. I remember your bed-wetting days all too well. Every bed you slept on, we were what kept you safe. You would take us on every RV, trailer, camping and road trip. You took us on every vacation. You carried me through many airports so you would be comfortable on the plane. I remember every suitcase and bag you put us in. Every hotel room, Air BNB and VRBO we have slept in. One trip, you forgot to pack shirts, but you remembered to pack us. We went with you to Japan both times because you can’t sleep away from home without us. We’ve been all over the world and back with you.

I remember all those nights when you couldn’t sleep, and we were your only company. All those nights sleeping on the couch when your room was too messy or when you just felt like sleeping with the TV on. I remember every movie night, how you would cuddle close to us when the movie got too scary or sad. Every mid-morning, afternoon and before-bed nap. Every sick day. All the times you coughed and sneezed on me. Every morning before school you instructed me and Little Bluey to make sure no one would burn down the house while you were gone. Then the dog would jump on the bed and cuddle upon us where we would sleep all day, save for when we had to scare off an arsonist.

I remember every time you fell asleep, and someone would lay us on you and every time someone else fell asleep and you would lay us on them, every time the dog slept with us. I remember every photo we appear in. One of them is now in a little magnet on the fridge. You have Little Bluey wrapped around you at 6 years old and you kind of look like you're drunk.

I remember all those nights when we would gather around the bonfire or watch TV in the backyard with the family. How we would roast marshmallows, hot dogs, even make coffee and tea over the open flames. One night we even slept on the backyard couch underneath the stars. We slept in the tent together whenever we went camping or even pitched it in the backyard. One night, while in Cerro Gordo, you went out to pee, came back and said to dad, “Dad, get out here! Look at all these beautiful stars!”

To which dad said, “Damon, it's 3 in the morning. Do they look any different than they did at 11 o'clock? Get your ass back in bed.”

Every Easter, one of us would be thrown over your shoulders while you went outside searching for eggs. Every Christmas Eve, you would lay under us while mom read “T’Was The Night Before Christmas.” Then the next morning, you would sit under the tree with us to open gifts.

There were nights when you would wrap us around you and read a book by the fireplace. Those were my favorite.

I remember every time you cried on us, whether from grief, sadness, anger or just a bad day. We were your go-to snuggle pals whenever you were feeling down in the dumps. We would wrap ourselves around you until you felt better. Yes, I remember everything.

As we grew older, age and persistent use began to take its toll. We started to look old, our threads became loose, and our color began to fade. I’m more gray than blue now. But you still love us because we are your first and closest friends. The patch on Little Blue’s front still reads, “Thank Heaven For Little Boys,” even though you are not so little anymore. We may not be as fresh and soft as we were the day you got us, but we have always loved and snuggled with each other just like we have since you were a baby.

Even though you're still snuggling with us now, I still worry there will come a day when you snuggle with us for the very last time. After that, you won’t need us anymore. I worry that it is only a matter of time. It may not be tomorrow, but I know it’s going to be too soon. It’s going to be the worst day of our lives. Someday you will marry someone, and I pray that you do, and they will keep you warm and safe in bed at night and comfort you on every sick and bad day. I pray that person will come someday, but it won’t be any easier to watch you go. I hope whoever that person is will love you half as much as we do. I hope they know that we loved you first. We held you, snuggled with you, comforted you and tucked you into bed long before they did. Someday there will be someone who loves the same wonderful blue-eyed baby boy that we do. The same baby boy that had Little Bluey wrapped around him when he was taken from the hospital. We were only ever part of your life, but you were all of ours. I hope maybe you give us to your kids one day. But even if you don’t, we would not have wanted to be given to anyone else. From a birthday present for a chubby cheeked baby boy to the nap buddies of a big college man. I would not trade a single day with you for the world. We will always love you and be your friends, Damon. Never forget that.