Almost every child has an item that represents security for them at one time or another. Perhaps it is a stuffed animal, handmade quilt or knitted blanket that takes on a kind of mythical significance and can render your little one hysterical if it becomes lost or merely misplaced.  It doesn’t matter if it is mass-produced or a priceless heirloom, when a child wants it we will move heaven and earth to return it to their waiting little arms.

For my daughter, who is now grown with children of her own, it is Blankie. Today Blankie is merely a pink and (once) white gingham checked rag who started her life as the first quilt I ever made. She is/was comprised of alternating squares of gingham and white fabric with a heart in the middle outlined in white eyelet lace. She represented not only the beginning of a love of quilting for me, but a friend of sorts for my daughter.

Blankie’s main job was as a bedtime companion, but if my daughter was sick, she wanted it snuggled against her cheek. Most often, Blankie had to cover her whole head and many mornings I had to excavate my child from underneath. If, God forbid, Blankie wasn’t exactly where she was supposed to be, there would be no rest for anyone until she was restored to her rightful place.

When Blankie began to display the ravages of a million trips around the wash cycle (filthy from being dragged all over creation), I was often tempted to make her disappear. But once I saw my daughter’s beautiful hazel eyes mist over with despair, Blankie would make a triumphant return – all clean and dry.

Blankie is a college graduate but has never traveled internationally. So, although not fluent in any foreign language, she does speak the most important language of all: L-O-V-E. She has accompanied my daughter throughout important times in her life and is still today considered a treasured item. If I’m not mistaken, she was also at the hospital during the birth of my youngest grandchild.

Today Blankie is hardly recognizable from the day I finished her. My daughter doesn’t care. I’ve made her other quilts and tried to talk her into putting a tattered piece (of which there are many) into a scrapbook and calling it a day but she won’t hear of it. My son-in-law, who I suspect may be disgusted by Blankie’s current condition, has wisely accepted Blankie’s position in the family. I commend him for his bravery.

There is probably some component to Blankie’s significance that has to do with the fact that I made her, but I’m going to give Blankie her due. Her stuffing may be coming out and seams torn to shreds but she has kept secret the thoughts and dreams of (still) the most important little girl in my life. I can be happy with that. Please enjoy this tribute:

SONG OF THE BLANKIE

I do not have eyes, but I can see

The smile that only I bring to thee.

I do not have ears, but I can hear

The laughs and cries for all that you bear.

I do not have a mouth with which to speak

But give you the comfort you often seek.

You tell me your secrets; I tell you no lies.

I am your confidant (with all that implies);

I cannot heal sickness; a doctor I’m not

But count on me to soothe a hurtful spot.

My heart is true; my intentions are good.

I’ll be your friend like a good Blankie should.

I’ll know I was loved if some day I’m bedraggled and torn

From days and nights I kept you safe and warm.

When the time comes to put me aside

Know I was happy and served you with pride.

Now I’m just a ragged mess

But I know in my heart, we both have been blessed.

By Suzanne Darling ©June 2014