Security Blanket

When I was a baby, my parents had a green flowered blanket covering their waterbed. Some days, my mom would lay me in the center of the bed between the two of them. One of my favorite photos of all time is a shot my mom took looking down at my dad and me laying on the bed. I'm maybe 12 or 13 months old, looking up at my father with the biggest smile and brightest eyes. He has a scruffy beard, as if he hasn't had a chance to shave in a few days, and is grinning down at me. Our eyes are locked. I see this picture and instantly feel safe, that life is going to be okay. We are laying on the very same green flowered blanket that I snuggle under to this very day.

As I reflect over the last year, I think about what I have given up and what I have gained. At times, I think of the future and I am high as a kite, soaring over gloomy clouds, seeing only blue skies and basking in the sunshine. Other times, I can't pick my soggy ass up off the ground and the rain seems like an endless drizzle, soaking me to the very core, threatening my very will to continue living.

I have suffered through a lot of crap, some of it by choice, some of it just happened to be the way the cards were dealt. I have also been lucky enough to have some wonderful things happen to me. At the times I feel down, I can't help but blame myself for the choices I've made.

Luckily, I have good friends and a wonderful family who remind me why I made my choices. I also have my green blanket. It's large and worn down to the perfect softness, just thick enough to keep me warm but not stifle me. On bad days, like yesterday when the world seemed to be reminding me with every passing minute that I am alone right now, I wrap it around me and collapse on the couch.

I inhale its sweet scent, think of my picture, snuggle in and instantly feel safe. That life is going to be okay.