My Mother Tried to Drop My Six-Week-Old Baby Into a Fire Pit—Then My Father Caught Him.
/
Chapter 17 / 27
Chapter 17 - THE BLUE BLANKET
The blue blanket from the fire pit sat in a sealed plastic bag for weeks.
Police had photographed it.
Did not need it as physical evidence after confirming no burn.
It came back to me.
I could not use it.
I could not throw it away.
So it sat in a closet.
Then Marcellus outgrew the swaddle stage.
The blanket remained.
One afternoon, Dad found me staring at it.
“Throw it out.”
“No.”
“Then use it.”
“No.”
“Then stop opening the closet to stare at it.”
I glared.
He was right.
I washed it.
Normal cycle.
Baby detergent.
Dried it.
Then used it as a stroller blanket.
My hands shook the first time.
Marcellus kicked beneath it.
Happy.
Unbothered.
A blanket had no memory.
I did.
That distinction helped.
Then Dad said:
“You look pale.”
“Shut up.”
May you like
He did.
Progress.
