Patoo

Night is dark and dark is scary. Whether depicted in movies, novels, or stories, night has always been a shadow over our planet where the monsters are signaled to come out and play. In my mind, scary is not even an accurate enough word to depict my fear of night. As a child, I was afraid of the dark and this fear consumed me to a point at which I would go days at a time without sleeping. My parents would suggest leaving the lights on or having my sister sleep with me but none of these ideas could even compare with the security my blanky gave me. I have heard many times as I’ve aged, “when are going to get rid of that ratty old thing, you’re an adult!” My response to that is simply that my blanky is great part of my life. It is not only a blanket but the item I was wrapped in immediately after my birth, the hope that I grasped after losing my favorite Barbie doll, the snores I released during a nights rest, and the arms that held me after I received the news that my aunt’s cancer had defeated her. Don’t get me wrong, my blanky is indeed ratty with its torn fabric, faded blue and green bear silhouettes, and a stench that makes all others cringe; but not me. Despite its unfortunate appearance, I see a value behind this item that exceeds any diamond ring or material possession. My blanky is my security, my constant, and unlike people who come and go in my life, I know that every night when I brush my teeth, change into my pajamas, and climb into my bed, it will be there for me. I know that in the future my appearance will change, my family will grow, and my body will succumb to the cruelty of time, but that “ratty old thing” will always be waiting for me in that bed ready cradle me to sleep; this I believe.