Freewrite Friday #3: Your Security Blanket

When I was a child -about the age tree or four- I had an old, ratty device, a paper-thin, white masquerade of a blanket covered with the alphabet of the rainbow, as if something had vomit words on its sheet. I loved that thing like a puppy, carrying it around everywhere, dragging it across the floor, sleeping with it. Obviously my blanket was my fortress, my home within a home, per se. Seldom I was caught without a blanket. I had loved it like a person, like a brother. To this day I remember the comfort it brought, the security, the friendship. And to this day I yearn for it. What had happened to it? I don’t know. I know that it is gone. Perhaps my parents took it from me while I was asleep, or I dropped it during a childish excursion, or maybe (God forbid) the monster took it under the bed, to be lost among many other child-like memories, but the fact remains that its gone, to be forever lost among my childish memories. 

Now, my security blanket, other than God, friends and family, are my writing escapades. While writing, there is a vent where I can overflow and tears of joy, anger, frustration, or pain come gushing out. Writing is my escape, free from judgement (when put on private) or prying eyes. It is a friend for all times, whether happy or sad, in good times or bad, for a creative flourish or a flippant rant. My escape and my home, writing is my security blanket.