The Pink Blanket

Wednesday,

evening.

I had a big lunch,

so dinner tonight,

was a bowl of,

shredded wheat.

First day of December.

The dark, grey,

time of year,

here in my beautiful ugly.

Just starting to get used to,

the cold.

Re learning,

as I have every year, since I can walk,

to walk on,

icy sidewalks.

I must say,

I find it more,

challenging,

than I used to,

or perhaps the fear,

of falling is greater,

I know that it hurts,

more,

now.

Been a busy week.

Been thinking about,

a few things,

reflecting.

Last week,

it was cold, damp and drafty,

and I decided,

to get out the hot pink blanket.

Growing up,

this blanket was on,

my parent’s bed.

It is the kind of blanket,

they don’t make anymore,

virgin lambswool,

mothproof,

made in Canada,

for a legendary department store,

that disappeared,

a few decades ago.

It had never really occurred to me,

to use it,

it seemed old fashioned,

belonging to another era.

My mom, had put it away,

maybe twenty years ago,

replacing it with a duvet.

It stayed in an old steamer trunk,

unused for years.

When my mom died,

in 2020,

I saw it in the trunk,

and didn’t know,

what to do with it,

I even offered it,

to an acquaintance,

when I was preparing to move,

in April,

he was happy to take,

the mattress and pillows,

but would not consider,

a pink blanket,

so I moved it.

As I took it out this week,

put it on my bed,

it cast a warm glow,

over the room,

the cream walls seemed,

different,

somehow.

I found myself,

grateful,

that this acquaintance,

attached such importance,

to gender specific colours.

Ironic,

no one,

would have ever described,

my dad,

as anything but,

virile.

Dad liked pink,

he thought it was a,

sensuous colour,

I agree,

I rarely wear pink,

but, it looks good on,

me.

I am glad I kept it,

keeps their energy,

close,

and that blanket is,

so warm.

I have spent lots of time,

listening to advent music,

In The Bleak Midwinter,

and watching interviews,

with the great Stephen Sondheim,

who passed away this week,

at the venerable age of 91.

I was struck by the simplicity,

of his songwriting tenets,

  1. content dictates form and style
  2. Less is more
  3. God is in the details.

I think Sondheim is a genius,

may he rest in peace.

Be well, stay safe and warm.

Love each other,

cut yourselves some slack.

Later girls,

BB

By Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my mid early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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