when i was very little, i had a blanket. it was blue, and very soft, and over the years, the color faded to a soft shade of bluish gray and the flannel felt as fluid as silk. my blanket went with me to england and to college, folded small, tucked in a drawer, but always somewhere near. i brought my first three babies home in it.
when meg was born, i didn't think i'd have any more children, and so i let her have it, as "her" blankie. if anyone loved the blankie more than me, it was meg.
until one weekend when she was three, her father took her and her older siblings off on a camping trip. meg took her blankie, mostly because she took it everywhere. she didn't come back with it, mostly because her father, who knew how much she loved it, made sure it "disappeared." never mind that it was MY blankie, too.
meg and i both cried for the blankie, but i took comfort in the fact the blankie had been left behind in a forest, where it would decompose and go back to the ground, and perhaps, warm a bunny or maybe a baby bird.
this week, i've started work on meg's room. we've moved beyond planning and packing and into painting. today i started on her closet. the only hint im giving is... blue-blankie blue.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.