Monday, December 12, 2011

I'm almost 28 and I still have a security blanket

Hattie. That's his name. He is a {very} disheveled winter hat. I don't know why I gravitated towards a winter hat instead of a traditional security blanket, but I did, and I have slept with him in the crook of my arm for as long as I can remember.

Growing up I would bring him to friends' houses for sleepovers, but I would usually hide him. I was ashamed of my attachment to an inanimate object with a pom pom at one end and the letters of the alphabet in purple thread and pink hearts adorned on the brim.

In high school and even college ::sigh:: I didn't try to hide it anymore. Most of my close friends from both will tell you that they have seen Hattie and have {laughingly} come to accept him as part of me. I think it weirded M out a little at first, having to share our bed with a now falling apart article of winter apparel, but he has also come to understand that I need Hattie, and he doesn't tease me about it {that much} anymore.

My Mom used to joke that she didn't mind the fact that I carried it around with me almost everywhere for the first 10 years of my life, so long as it was gone by my Senior Prom. Bahahahaha. Sorry, Mom.

I've only ever been without Hattie for one night a few times in my life. So when we packed up everything in preparation for our move last week and I didn't remember seeing Hattie anywhere, I went on a rampage though all of our suitcases and boxes that were not already loaded in our moving pods. I couldn't find him. I almost had a nervous breakdown. Not just because he was missing; it was the straw that broke the camel's back. With the stress of the move and my maybe-depression, I didn't think I could handle the absence of my security blanket.

After we arrived at our new place in Connecticut last Monday, I threw a couple loads of laundry in the washer. Moved it over to the dryer. When I opened the dryer after it was done, Hattie fell out of the dryer and landed at my feet. How did I miss that he was in our pile of dirty clothes that we had been carrying around with us throughout the whole move? I had looked there the night of my rampage. I didn't see him when I was loading the washer or transferring the clothes to the dryer. Yet there he was, now, staring back at me.

I took this as a sign. Here we were in our new home, and everything was going to be okay. Hattie and part of my confidence were back. I am embarrassed to admit that the misplacement of this piece of {completely falling apart} cloth for two weeks resulted in a tiny hole inside of me, but it did, and I am glad that it is no longer there.
Hattie: my right hand man since 1984

Yep, I know it's pathetic to be almost 28 and still sleep with this bad boy every night, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I know what you're thinking, Mom, so long as it is gone by the time Carina goes to her Senior Prom, right? ;)


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