Our friends are like blankets. They can be an endless string of material woven together with such strength that they completely envelope us or they can be an array of tattered old pieces of what once was a blanket, holding desperately to the strength they once had but unable to fully cover us when we really need it. Regardless of whether the blanket is old or new, the heart of the fiber is still created from the same cloth and still retains the ability to protect a portion, if not all, of us.
Over time, it is inevitable that some cloth becomes distorted from its original plush appearance, but if you delve into memories of that blanket, you can hold on to the soothing feelings you once got from it and realize that it did everything in its power to keep you warm and protected. It can evoke a feeling as strong as a childhood sense of urgency to hold on to a security blanket.
Some blankets are indestructible. Although time may march over that blanket a thousand times, its resolve to stay in its original shape is overwhelming. It is always consoling when you need to seek comfort, it is never in a place you cannot find it and it will always be big enough to cover all of you. On very rare occasions, a blanket can be unintentionally neglected but when you rediscover that unique blend of interlaced textiles, you cherish the true strength of those fabrics and know they will never unravel. Once you wrap yourself in that blanket again it is like coming home but after never really having been away.
I am thankful for all of my blankets – the old, the new and the recently rediscovered. Every fiber of material that makes up those blankets has offered me comfort at some point in my life and I hope my blanket has done the same for them. I can always take solace in the fact that the material they are made of is genuine and it is readily available whenever I need to feel soothed on those stormy nights.