Blanket of Love
Picking up the photo album with great care, she brushed off the dust from the cover and laid the book down on the floor as she sat crisscrossed applesauce. Flipping through the book, a picture falls onto her lap with the grace of a swan. The picture is creased and crumpled beyond one’s imagination and it has been faded around the edges. She picked up the photo with great care, afraid to touch the photo for she feared that it would disintegrate and disappear. And the memories that come with it would fade into oblivion, lost in oblivion. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to cascade down her face. She tried to hold her emotions at bay, bottling up her tears, but to no avail as a tear stubbornly fall, landing perfectly on the delicate photo, leaving its mark there forever. She wiped away her tears harshly. Closing her eyes she chanted to herself to stop her waterworks and be strong.
Her eyes fluttered open. Shock was written across her face. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. A ball of yarn has materialized before her, with a string leading to somewhere. Out of curiosity, she picked up the ball of yarn and followed the string. She opened her door and it was as if she entered a new realm. She was transported into a room that tickled her memory, ever so familiar yet she could not place her finger on where she was. The string ends and she is standing behind her 4 year old self. Her 4 year old self was peering through a crack in a door. She walked towards the door and peered in as well. In the room, she saw her grandmother sitting on a rattan chair. And it finally dawned on her that she was at her grandmother house and she was revisiting a memory of her younger self. She watch in awe as her grandmother deftly sew together pieces of fabric to form a blanket. The blanket.
With a blink of an eye, she was transported back to her room. She got up immediately and opened her cupboard. Pulling out a red box, she uncovered the box contents and in it lies the blanket. The blanket made by her grandmother as a gift for her. She remembered what her grandmother had told her 4 year old self, how this blanket would shield her from the monsters under her bed. She remember the instances where she felt her grandmother cover her with the blanket while she was half asleep, whispering sweet nothings beside her, lulling her to sleep. She remembers how safe and loved she felt with the blanket and also carry it along with her, dragging it behind her. An adorable sight that made her grandmother laugh. Now, the blanket lays in the box, out of sight but not out of mind. The fond memories of her grandmother would last forever, her essence would forever linger on. The blanket is the sentiment of love for her granddaughter. She sat there, clinging onto the blanket tightly, crying her heart out for she misses her grandmother dearly.
This is the blanket of love.
