Student Publishing Program ::

Benjamin Silberman

Warmth of a Blanket

As I sit here, on my couch, with the sun hidden
behind clouds, the snow outside is dumping with no
cars running through the street.
The television is on, but in my state nothing is
visible.
I cannot feel anything, my body is simply numb.
But then, as I think, there may be an awakening to
my sadness.

There, across the room, sprawled out on the floor, is
something so magnificent, so beautiful, so meaningful.
This savior is my Yankees blanket.
I feel as my legs lift me off from my seat and step
by step, carry me toward the ball of fuzz.
Seeing this savior, on the floor in such poor manner
makes me want to cry.

There is something to this blanket that nothing else
in the world possesses.
Maybe, it’s the colorful logos covering the blanket
itself.
Maybe, it’s the pure craftsmanship that binds such
an explosion of fleece together.
But maybe, just maybe it’s the feeling I get when
holding the full-body sized fleece that sizes 45” by
55” up against my body.

As I slouch back down onto my couch, I wrap my
body in the wonderful wonders that lie within this
worn-in blanket.
Suddenly, color springs back into my life. I realize
what it means to be a boy, the television begins to
speak to me again, and the snow has never looked
so beautiful.

Just then, in that moment of truth, this blanket,
which had been treated so poorly, forgave its owner,
and repaid him with its mighty gift. Never again
shall one misplace this blanket, or forget to neatly
fold this blanket having it rest on nothing but the
finest cushion.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]