When I was little, I had a blankie. It was light green, silky and a huge comfort to me. I slept with it on my pillow. I, like Linus, was very attached to my blankie. I loved it so much that it eventually became worn and had a lot of holes. This did not matter one bit to me as a child. It did, however, bother my mother tremendously that I loved "that old thing." She threw it away a couple times, and I militantly dug it out of the trash. When she could tolerate my blankie no longer, she burned it, to get rid of it once and for all. My sister-in-law, recognizing the trauma of this, gave me my beloved Ted Bear as a replacement. Ted Bear still sits at my bedside today.
Fast forward about 50 years. When I was going through a period of intense counseling, I awoke to the idea that I would once again like to have a blankie. I found a soft fuzzy green one, not the same fabric, but the same color as the original. It is right next to me as I write this. It brings me comfort. I don't suck my thumb, however! My blankie is a place for me to feel snuggled, loved and peaceful.
Wouldn't the world be a wonderful place if everyone felt snuggled, loved and peaceful?
Get yourself a blankie--I'll never tell!
Leta
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