A friend, in anticipation of her first grandchild's first visit to grandma's house asked if we would sell her one of our recently completed quilts.
After a deal was struck, we asked if she thought the baby's father would like to have for his own child the blankie he gifted to our son when he was born. We remembered being so touched that the maturing first grader had given up his most beloved possession for the new kid on the block. We also remembered that, at the time, his mom assured us that he had plenty of spares and although she agreed it was a grand gesture he would never have let go of his very last option. We were still quite impressed with his generosity.
When our friend came to pick up the froggy themed comforter we also handed over the well-loved, formerly pastel yellow, tattered ribbon edged thermal blanket that we had kept in the attic all these years waiting for just this opportunity to return it to its original owner.
She let out a whoop and laughed so hard it seemed she might choke. Her words were difficult to make out, but between gasps for breath it sounded like she was expressing indecision on whether to give it to the baby to help build his immune system, or call the hazmat unit.
Perhaps she will let us know which, if either choice, she made.
If only this blankie could talk. Imagine the stories of childhood tears, fears, joys, adventures, and bedtime dramas it could tell.
Maybe it would even write a song about all that it had seen.