How My Old Blanket Teaches Me to Age Gracefully
I have a really old blanket. At least 15 years old.
It has so many holes that its gut randomly falls out. I have to play blanket doctor and stuff it back in, never in the correct place. So some areas are thin and empty, while others are bulging like a pregnancy.
When I went back to Maryland, I decided to bring a new blanket with me.
That poor thing deserves to rest.
My new blanket is quite nice. It has a removable layer inside, making cleaning easy.
It looks really good. And double layer means no gutting in its future.
The first 2 nights, I woke up drenched in sweats.
Too thick.
It is too thick for tropical weather!
So I removed the comforter inside and used just the skin.
Yes, better.
But it is so thin now it lacks all comfort.
I tossed and turned.
This morning, I saw my old blanket discarded in a corner. Already collecting sand from termites. I decided to give it a wash before putting it away.
After drying, I thought,
what the hell… one last nap before I let you go, buddy.
And I couldn’t believe it.
It’s not too hot and it’s just the right comfort!
It’s… perfect.
I wrapped it around my body. My skin tingled in happiness everywhere it touched. Like reuniting with an old friend.
My foot got stuck in one of the empty holes and I laughed.
I was pillow fighting with my cousins.
When Priscilla pulled it out from under me, it made a loooooong rip. The room went silent before we busted out laughing because it sounded like a fart.
My cousins are grown up now. They’re doing their own things with their friends (mewing) and aren’t laughing at fart noises.
As I lay wrapped in my old blanket, I wonder why we’re so easily sold on the idea of new and improved.
Our generation today doesn’t form any special bonds with their belongings. They possess many things, but all are replaceable.
This disconnection slowly takes roots beyond their possessions — into their body.
I am at the age now where I notice my body’s aging.
My eye bags, my first white hair.
Soon there will be wrinkles and sags. Sun spots and tired skin.
Many friends around me struggle with this too. Especially young moms.
They long for their old bodies and resort to plastic surgeries to bring them back.
To love their body as it was.
But how can anything be as it was?
The same man cannot bathe in the same river twice.
The chair we sit on today is not the same as the one yesterday.
Things get old.
If they didn’t, our children cannot grow and change is not possible.
We want to grow up, but not grow old.
So we spend a good bit of life dying to be in the future, and the rest of our lives longing for the past.
What if we allow ourselves to trust in the flow of life?
Etch our memories behind the smile lines.
Print our adventures on the sun spots.
Wear them as a testament to the strength of being human.
What if rather than fighting it, we learn to be with it?
And what if that’s where love actually is?
Thank you for reading ❤️
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