Life of a Green Blanket

One object that could tell the story of my life is my green blanket. Although I am not exactly sure when I got it, I remember having it as a baby. I would say my green blanket tells a story of my memories because of how long I have had it, and it is one of my most prized possessions. Maybe not so much as when I was little, needing it to fall asleep, but because of the stories that came with it. 

What set apart my green blanket from any other blanket was the texture. In my entire life, I have not found one blanket that can mimic the texture of my green blanket. The blanket is made up of strings about the same size as yarn, but way less fuzzy. The blanket was woven together with the strings to the thickness of one of the strings so it is pretty thin. When pulled the blanket creates some elasticity as the woven strings loosen up. The strings are also woven together like a bunch of waves and you can individually feel the strings as they work together to form the entire blanket. 

At the edges of the blanket, there is this softer fabric material that also is in a wavy shape like the top of some curtains. The fabric is thick enough that there is little elasticity in the fabric when squished, and it has creases that differentiate each wave from another. My blanket now has a few holes which add a more stringy texture to the blanket. It is a mystery how the holes got there, but they might have been from me pulling when I was younger. 

The strings that make up my green blanket also have tiny creases which add to the texture of the blanket. The ridge on my green blanket is sea green. Oh, and I forgot to mention that my green blanket is green. I think the classification of my green blanket would be called a knitted blanket if anyone would like to get tone. Trust me they are game changers when sleeping. I remember when I was little how I would fall asleep to the touch of it and have trouble sleeping at hotels if I forgot to take my green blanket with me, but I stopped taking them to hotels because of fear of it getting lost. 

I brought along my green blanket when I visited China in first grade. Everything went great on the trip, but when I got home and could not find my green blanket, my heart sank. My parents and I concluded that I probably left it at my grandparent's house. I do not remember my reaction, but I probably cried because I was pretty emotionally attached to the blanket. I remember my parents comforting me saying how my grandparents would keep it when I was scared they would throw it away. As time passed I got used to not having my green blanket. From time to time when I would sleep I would try to grab my green blanket only to shed a tear realizing it was not there which was then followed by hope that I would one day reunite with my precious green blanket. Months passed, and I slowly got used to not having the blanket, but then my dad found it in his luggage. This ending may seem anticlimactic, but I was pretty happy. I used to take the blanket on vacations, but I almost lost it again which is a story for another time.