It started out as one of those waffle-type blankets with the silky trim on it. Your basic baby blanket.  It had writing on it: “Everybody needs a little security”.  Could the words have been any more appropriate?

And as if that weren’t bad enough, I named the thing.  Dee.  Not sure what that was I was trying to say, but maybe “Dee” meant security in my infant language.

I used to sit with that blanket and rub the silky trim between my fingers – all the way around the blanket.  And around.  And around.

The coolness of the silky fabric soothed me.  In all honesty, I could probably sit and do that now on a stressful day and it would help relax me.

But I don’t.  It’s now in the cedar chest at the foot of my bed.  I pulled it out a couple of weeks ago, in order to take a picture of it. (Ok, so maybe I felt the silky trim for a moment or two, I admit it.)

I’m so embarrassed to show it here.  It doesn’t even resemble a blanket anymore.  It looks like some ancient artifact from 200 years ago.  In reality, it’s 34 years old (and hasn’t been touched in about the past 30).  That’s a lot of loving in 4 short years.  A lot.

Here is is, a ball of rags.

I had my daughter hold it up for a picture.  You can see that the trim is barely connected to the middle of the blanket anymore.

None of my kids sucked their thumbs or had special blankets they had to have around to sleep.  I was their security blanket – and lost a lot of sleep because of it.

Please tell me I’m not alone.  Did you have a security blanket too?  Or maybe a very worn stuffed animal?