I use a faded, holey, torn and well worn patchwork quilt to sleep with each night. Ever since June 15sh, 2002, when Blake and I got married. My best friend since 4th grade’s parents gave it to us for a wedding gift. It is blue and white with stars throughout. It is no longer my style, but I can’t seem to let it go. It hardly covers, definitely doesn’t warm. In the winter, I have to use two blankets, my holey patchwork and another less important blanket.
I have never had a blanket attachment. My sister did and I never could understand it, but I can now. My mother in law tried to convince me to get rid of it when she came to visit and saw it’s condition, but I stood up for myself and for the broken blanket. I couldn’t let it go. It was the smell, the feel, the worn blanket I had slept with for 11 years. I had grown accustomed to it. Then my husband tried to convince me to get rid of it. “Every time you move, it rips. I wake up at night to a ripping blanket.” But I still can’t do it. It’s my security blanket, if you will.
Now, Hailey has grown attached to it as well. I was going through things in her room and found a piece of the patchwork. I was bout to throw it in the garbage, when she grabbed it and said she slept with it at night. I will hang on to this blanket until there is nothing left to it. It will shrivel and shrink to a size that might not even be useable anymore, but I am using it and that is all the matters.