it may be JUST a “comforter” to you…
Yesterday I got my very FIRST brand new “comforter.” Yeah. I don’t have a bed but I can use it to wrap up in on my futon or the floor. It’s all MINE. For the first time in years I got to pick out a big fluffy, silky, soft, funny, comforter that reflects ME.
You probably take your comforter for granted. You probably have owned several comforters.
Not me. Nope.
Living with my parents, my bedding was “whatever was laying around.” Sometimes it was a blanket, sometimes just a sheet, sometimes a tee-shirt, and sometimes nothing at all. They did not care and I never mattered enough to be kept warm and comfortable.
In foster care, I used what was laying around, too. I used what lots of other kids used. I used the colors or pictures that someone else picked out. I used ones that had stains, frayed ends, or were tattered. I used ones that other kids cried on. I used ones that other kids drooled on. I used ones that other kids peed or pooped or puked on. I used ones that …. whatever other kids did on them. Each of those kids left their story on those comforters… and many times the comforters looked like wars had been fought as children slept or screamed the night away.
“Comforters” that were never mine, but a true reflection of how I felt… old, used, ugly, dirty, not special, not worth the $20 to give me a clean start.
Once on the streets I used a “comforter” that I found under a bridge. It was so disgusting … but I was freezing. I drank a bottle of nighttrane so that the dirt and stains and smell drifted away, as I wrapped myself up with another street kid. “Comforter” that wasn’t mine, but yet another reflection of how I felt … dirty, used, smelly, disgusting, thrown away…
Yesterday, I stood in <store name> feeling so excited as I looked at all the comforters that lined the shelves. Holy shit! Tons of comforters…. for all ages. Holy shit! Tons of comforters… all colors. Holy shit! Tons of comforters…. superheros and spongebob and animals and peace signs and flowers and “mature” ones and… and….
Holy shit! How do I choose?
I am sure people watched as I focused myself on comforters that … weren’t mature, weren’t adult, and weren’t what people my age would pick. It wasn’t girly, it didn’t match anything I owned, and well…. it probably belongs in a 9-year old’s world….
I got a BRAND NEW comforter… for the first time in my life ….
It has no battle scars and it has survived no wars… it’s just a comforter…
…and it’s MINE.
ok… well…. OURS!