Expressive Essay
My blanket was quilted and many times my size. It was stuffed with cotton and dyed with pictures of cats and dogs. It was my first birthday present, and it never left my side. I named my blanket Tucky. To this day, I don't know what the word meant to me. Maybe I called it Tucky because I tucked two fingers on my left hand in my mouth whenever I held it. Or maybe I was thinking of how good it felt when my mother tucked me in at night and my blanket covered and protected me. As long as it was near me, I was invincible. As I grew up, my blanket grew older. With every squeeze it lost stuffing. With ever
It feels strange to reveal these things, since the world regards me as an adult. By the time I was seven, Tucky was nothing more than a soft, worn rag, and I loved it. Even though I've outgrown my security blanket, I haven't forgotten it. I still know its exact location, at the back of my clothes drawer on the left side. But I missed my blanket on those nights when the thunder seemed overwhelming or when I needed a friend. I had to find new sources of securtiy and protection, some of them in myself. (I tried recently to stuff my fingers in my mouth, but they just won't nestle as nicely as they used to) But most of the time, just the thought of Tucky can ease the stress of an exam or calm my nerve's before I sing. But if I could, I would give everyone a scrap of Tucky just for a shred of hope or a slice of confidence. A security blanket, or even a security shred, can turn a bad day around or make a good one better. My mother was already forcing my fingers from my mouth and Tucky's softness from my hands. Sometimes I want to take it out and brush it up against my cheek. Around that time, I knew I couldn't keep my blanket much longer. It will always be there in its ragged greatness, ready to give me comfort when I'm troubled or have lost my confidence.
Common topics in this essay:
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fingers mouth,
security blanket,
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Acceptance Essays
