My Life As A Shawl

My Life As A Shawl
By Tammy Ruggles

I was born in the maternity ward of a hospital, knit with loving hands by a nurse who was working double duty to care for all the babies in their bassinets. She gave me to one special little boy, Joey, who had to stay in an incubator for a few days before going home.

Wrapped around him in his mother's arms, I did what good shawls are supposed to do. I gave comfort, warmth, and security.

At night I slept with Joey in his crib. He reached for me, not his teddy bear, on those nights when his tummy ached and his teeth hurt and his ear throbbed.

When my boy became a toddler, he tied me around his neck, and I played the part of Cape in his adventures as Super Hero. We battled aliens and conquered giants together. I even dabbed his knee whenever it got scraped.

Time passed, and Super Hero was left behind, but not me. Super Stud was ripe for the picking, and I was delegated to the back seat of his hot rod, just in case the ladies got a little chilly or I was needed to double as a picnic blanket. Sometimes I felt so misused. I was beginning to fray, I had a few stubborn stains, and my color was fading. I even ended up on the porch as a mat for his dog!

Charming!

But I hung in there. I didn't want to be anywhere else, and Joey seemed to want me around.

Super Stud finally graduated from high school and wanted to go to college. He kissed his mommy goodbye, grabbed me off the porch while loading up his car, tossed me into his laundry basket. Off to college we went. He forgot his wallet and his favorite jacket, but he didn't forget me.

At the dorm I had a special place at the foot of his bed, and one night when none of his roommates were in the dorm room to see him, he held me against his cheek while he cried for his mom.

Come on, Joey. You're a Super Hero, a Super Stud; remember?

I wound up under his bed for most of our college days. I think I got two trips to the laundry during the whole time, and was glad to get them. Somehow I ended up stuffed between his mattress during his last semester. It's a miracle he even found me to take me home.

Home.

Not to his mom's home, but to his. The one he shared with the special girl, his new bride. She gave me the special treatment. Washed on the delicate cycle in baby soap, rinsed with mildly scented fabric softener, and then carefully repaired with her knitting needles.

Lucky me, she made straight A's in Home Ec.

After all that, she wanted me to be framed and hung on the wall in the nursery, but Joey said no, I needed to go in the crib.

And I did.

But first I went to the hospital with them, and found myself wrapped around Joey's tender little baby, giving him comfort, warmth, and security.

Time passed. I was a cape around little Johnny's neck too. And a blanket for his kitty. And a tent for his chairs.

Johnny grew, like most boys do. And I found myself, once again, less remembered; spending most of my days lying on the back of Joe's recliner, or across his wife's lap.

And once again, drying his tears, after his mother died.

Never was I put away into a box. Or thrown away. Or traded. Or sold.

I was with him till the end. The very end. Around his shoulders when he gave his last sigh of goodbye to his wife, and his son, and the world; doing what I was meant to do: Giving comfort, warmth, and security.

The End