What is your most treasured possession and why?
[locked from everyone she knows]
I remember the day I got it. I was out shopping alone in San Fransisco, near Chinatown, but not quite. It was a nice day, which is rare in the city. It's either overcast or incredibly hot. On this day it was a breezy 75 or 80 degrees. I looked all through the stores along that street for a block, eager to spend what was left of my meager paycheck on him. Then I found this store, the woman made fantastic blankets. This one was blue and white. At the time I didn't know he was a boy, but I bought it anyway. I wanted to. There's white lace all along the edge and big blue and white squares across the front. Blue satin on the back. I think I actually covered up with it that winter.. wishing he was there. (It didn't cover but my legs and hips.)
Finally after all the waiting, some 5 months later I finally got to wrap him in it. I remember it was the first blanket I used for him. When everyone had gone home and (normally) the parents would be left alone in their hospital room with their new born, it was only him and I. I laid out the blanket on the bed in front of me and undressed him. I studied every inch of his skin, the creases, his fingers and toes, his smell. It was almost something I did unconsciously. I was amazed. I've never felt more overwhelmed with love in my entire life. It hurt so bad, to know that there was no possible way I could protect him from the world. I was in awe of this perfect person that I somehow had a part in. People do it everyday, have babies, make babies. But when it's you it's so much more than I can even explain. I don't know how to verbalize it. There is nothing greater. I got him dressed in that little blue night gown and wrapped him in the blanket. My son. I set him on the pillow in front of me and just watched him sleep. I didn't feel the pain from the long labor, I didn't feel the pain from the surgery, I didn't feel the pain in my heart of doing it all alone. All I could feel was love for that little person, and completely terrified that somehow I was going to mess him up. But for whatever reason, the powers that be denied me the chance.
To me, it seems pretty stupid for people to place value on the things they own. Things are just things. Stuff. Stuff is shit. Stuff means nothing. But when the people you love are gone and all you have are stupid things like a $20 blanket from Chinatown to remember them by, you treasure it. I have my memories, but you can't hug a memory. You can't smell it. If anything ever happened to that blanket I wouldn't be ok.
Victoria Gray
Original Fiction
I remember the day I got it. I was out shopping alone in San Fransisco, near Chinatown, but not quite. It was a nice day, which is rare in the city. It's either overcast or incredibly hot. On this day it was a breezy 75 or 80 degrees. I looked all through the stores along that street for a block, eager to spend what was left of my meager paycheck on him. Then I found this store, the woman made fantastic blankets. This one was blue and white. At the time I didn't know he was a boy, but I bought it anyway. I wanted to. There's white lace all along the edge and big blue and white squares across the front. Blue satin on the back. I think I actually covered up with it that winter.. wishing he was there. (It didn't cover but my legs and hips.)
Finally after all the waiting, some 5 months later I finally got to wrap him in it. I remember it was the first blanket I used for him. When everyone had gone home and (normally) the parents would be left alone in their hospital room with their new born, it was only him and I. I laid out the blanket on the bed in front of me and undressed him. I studied every inch of his skin, the creases, his fingers and toes, his smell. It was almost something I did unconsciously. I was amazed. I've never felt more overwhelmed with love in my entire life. It hurt so bad, to know that there was no possible way I could protect him from the world. I was in awe of this perfect person that I somehow had a part in. People do it everyday, have babies, make babies. But when it's you it's so much more than I can even explain. I don't know how to verbalize it. There is nothing greater. I got him dressed in that little blue night gown and wrapped him in the blanket. My son. I set him on the pillow in front of me and just watched him sleep. I didn't feel the pain from the long labor, I didn't feel the pain from the surgery, I didn't feel the pain in my heart of doing it all alone. All I could feel was love for that little person, and completely terrified that somehow I was going to mess him up. But for whatever reason, the powers that be denied me the chance.
To me, it seems pretty stupid for people to place value on the things they own. Things are just things. Stuff. Stuff is shit. Stuff means nothing. But when the people you love are gone and all you have are stupid things like a $20 blanket from Chinatown to remember them by, you treasure it. I have my memories, but you can't hug a memory. You can't smell it. If anything ever happened to that blanket I wouldn't be ok.
Victoria Gray
Original Fiction