Feathering his nest

Each night, JT follows a very specific routine when it comes time to go to sleep. His most-favored blankets are folded at the end of the bed, awaiting a call to duty. The blankies are all afghans. He likes to sleep with the blanket under his head but the blankies must be cool, thus the requirement that more than one be available for service. Last night when I checked on him before I went to bed, his head was resting on the blanket that my grandmother knitted for him before he was born. It's a simple white blanket with a nice heavy knit. Perfect for a cuddle on a cool night. It's just the sort of thing that a great-grandma would make for a baby.

My Grandma Marlette unexpectedly died 7 years ago this week, when JT was almost seven months old. She had met him in July of that year, when he was just five months old and she had been most excited about the babies born to our family. In fact, I still have the letter she sent me when my sister's son Spence was born just eight weeks after JT. By then, she had three great-grandsons and she was thrilled, "my cup runneth over," she wrote me.

So it is a special night when I see the head of my boy resting on that blanket. I imagine that his dreams are a bit sweeter on those nights. And failing that, I know the blanket carries some important lessons in life ----- how to laugh in the face of adversity, to say what you mean, how to appreciate the deep woods of Yosemite National Park, how to play a fierce game of cards, how to stand up for what you believe, and why the only decent politicians are Democrats.