My Comfort Blanket

I don't know if quillows were a big thing everywhere or just in my home town, but my foster mom made one for me back when I lived there (what seems like a million years ago).  Although it is now faded and worn (often how I feel--not that I feel old yet, but just that I sometimes miss the vibrancy and energy I had when I was a teenager), I use it every night when we couch-potato (I'll bet you didn't know that could be a verb) because it is the only blanket that keeps my feet warm.  In my opinion, every blanket should have a pocket for your feet.

Also, every night I sleep on a special pillow my mom gave me for my birthday.  I was with her when she bought it, but she still took it home and wrapped it in pretty paper before she gave it to me, which I thought was a little silly but still very sweet.  I love the pillow.  It feels like a hug.

I love how she accepted me as her own even though I was ungrateful and angry so much of the time.  I love the way she has patiently waited as I repeatedly put time with her on the back burner while I spend time with my own family members.  Even though I wish she wouldn't fret, I think it is nice that she still frets over me.

And I love that even though she is hundreds of miles away and it has been more than a dozen years since I left her nest, I still feel like she tucks me in and hugs me every night before I go to sleep.