Just a Blanket
A True Story

One year, Mommy got a weighted blanket for her birthday. It was so deliciously cozy, and she never use it, so I took it for myself.

One night, I saw my sister, Maria, trying to pull it off of my bed. “Hey, stop it!” I exclaimed, climbing into my bunk and pulling it over myself.

“I should get a chance with it,” she protested as she continued tugging. “It’s no fair, you get this and the purple blanket!”

“No!” I said firmly. “Mom said I could have it!” We kept on arguing, back and forth, back and forth; Maria, demanding the blanket, and I, refusing. I knew I was just being stubborn, but once you say no, it’s hard to change your mind.

My two younger sisters, Rosie and Carlette, went downstairs to tell Mommy, but she never came up. I think she was trying to see if we could work it out ourselves, which we unfortunately couldn’t. By this point Maria was crying furiously. Rosie also started crying, because she was scared of us arguing. I had scared her. Me, her older sister. She was supposed to look up to me, not be frightened of me.

Eventually Mommy came in and told us to give her the blanket. I was so relieved that she was there, that I handed it over without any argument.

That night I cried and cried. I was still awake after my siblings had fallen asleep, so I tiptoed over to Rosie’s bed. I watched her sleeping peacefully, while tears rolled down my face. I wanted her to trust me. I kissed her cheek and then crept over to Maria and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before climbing back into my bunk.

The next day, I found thirteen glowing stars above my bed. I knew that they were Maria’s way of saying sorry. I accepted her apology, but I still felt I should be the one apologizing.

Every time when I look up at the spiral those stars make, I remember that awful night, but I also remember how powerful and important forgiveness can be.