When I was a kid, I hated parting with my favorite blanket to send it away to the scary, evil washing machine. I couldn't sleep with out it; it was my shield against monsters and things that creep in the night. But it was always worth it when my mom would pull it out of the dryer and bring it to me, still radiating heat and the scent of Tide, and wrap it around my shoulders or tuck it underneath my cheek as I tried to fall asleep. It was warm, cozy, and smelled fresh and clean. It made me feel safe and protected and let me know that everything was going to be alright.
Not much has changed. Tonight I, a nineteen-year-old college student, waited patiently for the buzz of the dryer, indicating that it was ready to relinquish its grasp on my blanket so that I could cocoon myself in its warmth. It's amazing the level of comfort that an inanimate object can bring after a long, tiring, stressful day.
Truly amazing.
No comments:
Post a Comment