One upon a time, long ago, where blue grass grew in Main Street America, and front porch swings were a safe place to watch life go by, I packed my bags, folded up my new cobalt blue comforter with Dogwood Rose colored flowers to go out in the world and, if not meet my destiny, then hunt it down like a terrior unleashed who finds the world so big that sometimes it is hard to figure which way to go.
My comforter was there through my college career, wrapped around me as I studied, worked on projects, or just needed a comfort moment. In a college dorm room, bedding is the primary décor statement (wall décor second). My Cobalt blue comforter with its Dogwood Rose colored flowers symbolized my boldness – no weak, thinned out blue pastel or wall flower pink – no – I was going to shape my future to my dreams – Cobalt blue spoke strength, determination, adventure.
Three years later, I stepped further into my future. My spirit gentled. My new comforter was Shabby Chic White with faint slashes of tea green and misty rose. My fading Cobalt Blue comforter, now Carolina Blue found itself folded over a chair for cuddling on the couch or naps.
Until my son was born. The blue seemed to brighten with a renewed vitality. Thrown on the floor, it provided a soft place to fall. As morning wore on, sleepiness pulling both of us, we’d wrap the blue around and fall into the snuggly Kingdom of Nap.
When he turned 2, I decorated his Big Boy Room. He picked out a Snoopy Quilt with a blue background for his Big Boy Bed. During nap time one afternoon, when he was just 3, he dragged his blanket into my room, setting it on my bed. “I think you should have this blanket, Mom. It’s so much nicer. I’ll let you have it,” he said as he slowly inched my fading into stone washed Corn Silk blue blanket over his shoulders and backed out of the room. “I’ll just take this one since you won’t be needing it now that you have my nice Snoopy blanket.”
And there began a back and forth, a sneak and take for a few years until it just stayed in his room, wrapped around him during sleep, snuggly time, movie time, and, yes, even spend the night time. Time faded the blanket to periwinkle. Not all the seams were there. That blanket went with him to college, all faded and full of memories. The pink had washed to a leached out white.
One day, he brought The Girl home, the girl who would be his wife. They set a date. Then, one Christmas, six months before the wedding, he came home with his blanket and left it behind. The faded blue blanket just lay there. . . . .
Until one day, my 3rd son picked it up, wrapped it around himself, and wandered off with it to snuggle into sleep, watch a movie, or read, even on overnight sleepovers – terribly faded, terribly worn, terribly loved – 
(I had to wrestle it away to take a picture).
Blue Cotton Memory 
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