Fiction:
Baby Ken’s first word was not Mama. It was not Dada or Papa. His first word was Bluie as his tiny little fingers searched for the silky edge of his soft blue blanket.
Ken’s first sentence was “I want my Bluie.”
When Ken crawled, he pulled Bluie behind him.
When Ken played in the sandbox he cried for Bluie. Mama gave in.
Ken insisted on holding Bluie when he ate and dribbled food all over it.
Bluie got dirty, and Mama washed Bluie again and again.
Ken hugged Bluie when he napped. He hugged Bluie at night.
Bluie’s silky edge came loose. Mama sewed it back in place.
Ken took Bluie to preschool and kindergarten for nap time. He took Bluie when he visited Grandma’s house.
Then one day, Mama said, “Bluie has to stay home and wait for you. Nobody takes a baby blanket to first grade.” Then Ken left Bluie at home when he went to soccer practice and when he went to cub scouts.
Ken still hugged Bluie every night. Bluie faded, its silky edge came off, and there were even a few holes.
When Ken went to wrestling camp, he put Bluie in his bag. Mama said, “Nobody takes a shabby old baby blanket to camp. And it is summer and hot.”
Papa said, “Everyone will laugh and tease you. Big boys don’t have baby blankets.”
Bluie stayed in Ken’s bag and went to camp.
When Ken came home, he told Mama and Papa, “The air conditioned rooms were cold. I was the only one with an extra blanket. No one teased me. They thought I was smart.”
Lynn Connor likes getting up before the sun, watching sea gulls ride the winds, sitting by the fire, and traveling to remote places—rafting the Taku River, camping in the Taklamakan desert, sleeping in Mongolian gers, and celebrating Buddha’s birthday at a Korean mountain temple. Next a return to the Oregon coast!
