Brynne, my daughter, was crocheting up a storm; she’d just finished a blanket, and had started another. She asked me if I would like a blanket; and, before I had a chance to answer, she asked what my favourite colours were so she could buy the materials.
I’m not really a sit-on-the-sofa-with-a-blanket-draped-over-me kind of person; I don’t get cold easily and, if I do feel a bit of a chill, I prefer to don a sweater rather than ‘wear’ a blanket. So, after an explanation, I said, “I wouldn’t use the blanket, so I don’t want you to spend your time making one for me. So, no thank you, I don’t need a blanket.” As the day wore on she asked several more times until I told her she was making me feel a strange sense of guilt. The next day she left a small water-colour by the computer before she left for work. Underneath the painting she wrote: “Here, your very own blanket.”
I love my new blanket; it makes me feel much warmer.
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db johnston
almost falling 