My father 's blanket

It is the Germany blanket which I inherited from my father. It is a warm, grey, wide blanket. The blanket was a gift from my relatives living abroad for my Dad. At that time, my family was suffered in poverty. My Dad was struggling with his illness. A warm blanket was something precious to him and my family. With tears, my Mum still reminds me of the origin of the blanket in tear. During my father's illness, which lasted for year by years, he slept separately from my mother in a very small corner of the house because he was afraid of spreading the disease to his wife and his children. A thin blanket protected him from shivering with cold. Now, I could can imagine how much he needed a warm blanket at that time. ? I cry every time I think about the reason why he did not use the blanket even in for just one day. My father thought that he would pass away soon and the precious blanket would be infectioused by his illness so that and my Mum and my brother, my sisters and I could not reuse it. So, he gave it up to his wife and his children even though his illness need it. My father saw nothing but poverty for his beloved ones after his predicted death. So, he did everything that a poor, unhealthy father could do for his children.


I haves kept the blanket for many years since my father passed away. The dreams of my childhood grew up with this blanket. I did not realize how much this blanket means to me until I left it to go to college. After I left home, my Mum keeps the blanket as well as some other blankets and pillows which are presents from of my brother in her wardrobe. (They are too precious for my Mum to use them often). But, everytime I come back home, I pull it out of my mother 's wardrobe and hide myself in its warmth and protection. Every time I come home, my Mum always complaints that to me why I always use it even though the weather is hot. I answer her with a big smile instead. It is a habit. I had it during my childhood until I left my home for studying. The blanket pampered me with warmth and comfort. Sometimes, I want to ask for my Mum's permission to kept the blanket as my own special thing during my time leaving far from home. But, I know my home is its most suitable place. The blanket is like the voice of love, warmth, protection calling me back home.

Beautiful story about the blanket. I am sorry to hear about your father. His illness sounds like a very painful time. You convey your ideas with clarity, vividness, and emotion. Good effort. Keep it up!