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My mom had warned him. But he wouldn't listen. He kept throwing his blankie up and down in the car while his window was open. It was open just a crack, so he didn't believe my mom when she said his blankie could get sucked through the crack while the car was moving. Boy, was he wrong!
It was impossible for anyone but my brother and me to tell our blankets apart. Everybody said my brother's blanket was exactly like mine because it was made out of the same material and was the same color. I didn't think our blankets were anything alike. My blankie was bigger, whiter, and softer than my brother's. And the best part was that it smelled like me! I felt bad for Tom after his blankie flew out of the window. Sometimes, I would let him hold mine just so he could feel the material again. But I wouldn't let him hold it too long, for fear that it might start to smell like him instead of me. After all, it had taken me six years to get my blanket smelling just right. Gradually, Tom started holding my blankie longer and longer. Then, one day, it was gone! I knew he was the one who took it. I ran to my mom, sobbing and screaming at the same time, "He took it! Tommy took my blanket!" "Calm down, sweetie. Everything is going to be all right. I'm sure he didn't take it," my mom said soothingly. Sure enough, Tom walked upstairs with my blankie in his hands! "Look, mommy! There he is!" "Thomas, did you take your sister's blanket without asking?" my mom asked him. "But mom! I figured since Meagan is such a big girl, she wouldn't mind lending it to me for a couple days," he answered. "You should've asked her first, though," my mom stated. She turned to me and said, "Well, honey, would you mind if Tom borrowed your blankie for a couple days?" "I don't know," I replied. I was skeptical that Tom would ever give my blankie back. "You are getting to be a big girl, you know. I think it would be very nice if you let him borrow it," my mom said. "Fine, but only for a few days," I told him. "No problem," he assured me. Well, those couple of days turned into a couple of years. My fear came tree; my blankie now smells like him. But, my mom was right. I was a big girl and I didn't need a stupid blankie anymore. Now, it seems kind of odd that my 11 year old brother needed a blanket, my blanket that is, while his six year old sister was fine without one.
This short story was written by Meagan O'Neil in June of 1998. All characters in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names, incidents, dialogue and opinions expressed are products of the author's imagination and are not to be constued as real. This should come as a relief to Meagan's actual brother Tom who may have thought this story was based upon something he may or may not remember.
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