Blankie

I was in college — young, wild and free.  I met someone. The person that I ended up marrying.  Two weeks after we met, we walked through a park talking about our lives. I wore a bohemian dress and gold earrings. He wore a button-up shirt and slacks, simple colors as usual. He talked about his country, Bahrain, and his memories of growing up by the sea. I never believed that I would end up in his country, stepping into the picture he carefully painted for me.

We circled ponds and sycamore trees, crisscrossing through our lives. Then we found a bench to sit on, cast iron. “How about we take a trip to the beach?” I said.

“Really?” he replied with a smile. I expected him to say no.

“Yes.” I said.

He was up for it, so we went to his apartment, which he didn’t have the key to. So he took out the window screen and climbed through the window. He prepared his things. Our destination was still unknown.

We decided to take my car, which was far more dependable than his old Camry. We took off East, and the route we ended up choosing led us to Long Beach, New York. About an hour into our journey, Ali asked me if I was really serious about this. He told be that we could just take a detour to Chicago. I had exams coming up and he was finishing senior- year projects, we really had no business going. But I encouraged him to stick to the plan.

He drove us through the night. I remember a big, starry sky and those quiet hours when you feel you’re the only ones on the road. We were making a connection.

Along the way we stopped for gas, Red Bull and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. We wouldn’t dare consume that junk today.

It was sunrise when we arrived. Our eyes were tired and we were disoriented from lack of sleep. But there it was. The ocean in front of us. A big, golden sun and the New York City skyline.

Little did I know, this trip would cause me to gain something and lose something. I gained a life partner, who would go on to help me through the growing pains of womanhood and give me love like never before. But, I lost my childhood friend- who I named “Blankie,” a baby blanket that I had slept with every night for 21 years.

When my parents found out that I had gone to NYC with Ali, they took the car and threw out all of its contents, including Blankie. Why? I don’t understand to this day.

Losing Blankie has since become a symbol of the end of innocence. When I want to hug Blankie at night, I remember that he is gone. I must find peace within myself.

I don’t know where Blankie is. Maybe he was burned, or he is sitting in some landfill. But I would like to thank him for everything that he did for me.

Here is the last photo of Blankie.

2015