I was shown the room where I would stay for the night. The room opened and I saw all the things familiar in a bed room, namely a bed, a closet, closed shutters on a window linking the house to a darkened world.
But the moment I the door opened and the light went on, my eyes went directly to the bottom half of the bed, for on that bed was a red blanket--an item I recognized immediately. It was my brother's Warm Fuzzy.
I suppose each family has traditions, acknowledged and otherwise. Things we remember from those years so long ago. For us, one of those traditions were our Warm Fuzzies. My mom made one for each of her three children. My brother's was red, mine was blue, and I believe my sister's was pink. Just seeing it brought back so many memories, but not so much specific memories--more like an overall feeling that I was ten-years old watching TV and trying to keep warm wrapped in my blanket while sitting in the unfinished basement of the house my father almost completed before he died, and not staying at your brother's house overnight in 2017.
My brother displayed his on a bed in his guest room. Mine is in the basement in storage. I suppose had I a guest room and there was a bed in that room, I could unpack the blue Warm Fuzzy and let everyone know that there was a time when I was younger when I took a blanket made by love and it kept a cold boy warm. Seeing one again yesterday made me feel warm again.
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