I named my blanket Tucky. To this day, I don?t know what the word meant to me. Maybe I called it Tucky because I tucked two fingers on my left hand in my mouth whenever I held it. Or maybe I was thinking of how good it felt when my mother tucked me in at night and my blanket covered and protected me. As long as it was near me, I was invincible.
Around that time, I knew I couldn?t keep my blanket much longer. My mother was already forcing my fingers from my mouth and Tucky?s softness from my hands. I had to find new sources of securtiy and protection, some of them in myself. But I missed my blanket on those nights when the thunder seemed overwhelming or when I needed a friend.
Even though I?ve outgrown my security blanket, I haven?t forgotten it. I still know its exact location, at the back of my clothes drawer on the left side. Sometimes I want to take it out and brush it up against my cheek. (I tried recently to stuff my fingers in my mouth, but they just won?t nestle as nicely as they used to) But most of the time, just the thought of Tucky can ease the stress of an exam or calm my nerve?s before I sing. It will always be there in its ragged greatness, ready to give me comfort when I?m troubled or have lost my confidence.
It feels strange to reveal these things, since the world regards me as an adult. I know we can?t go about our daily lives dragging worn blankets behind us or sucking on our fingers to make ourselves feel better. But if I could, I would give everyone a scrap of Tucky just for a shred of hope or a slice of confidence. A security blanket, or even a security shred, can turn a bad day around or make a good one better.