My Embrace

Scents

And just as you think I'm out of my tirelessly repetitious childhood stories, here's one that has thus far not been told.

It's about My Embrace.

In case you're wondering what the heck this is, here's a hint. 

You know how kids have favorite stuffed toys, like First Daughter's Toto and Jenny?

Toto was named after Dorothy's pup in The Wizard of Oz. Jenny had to be a girl and thus embellished with eyelashes and red lips for a feminine look.

Or Second Daughter's Froggie and Brown Bear?

Froggie was a godfather's baptismal gift. Brown Bear was a gift from Santa.

 

I didn't have any of that, but I had a pillow that I called My Embrace. Yup, in English, because Mum spoke to me in English when I was a child.

Not sure how that term came about. But that was what I would call for as I lay down to sleep at night on the woven mat.

Although the pillows looked identical, I somehow knew which one it was. There was just something about it that was impossible to explain. So soft, so comforting. When I held it in my arms, I got a whiff of love and security. 

I remember when I would say, My Embrace can’t sleep without me. Well, truth was, I couldn't sleep without My Embrace. I can swear that it knew all my secrets, and that it kept them.

When creaky starapple branches and lizards slithering through the window slat kept me awake at nights, I would shrink down into the creases of my special pillow. When I awoke in the deepest dark of night and heard the rumbling thunder, I would cling to my pillow's delectable softness. I would whisper silly stories into it in the darkness until I finally succumbed to sleep.

For me, My Embrace was a delectable amulet that brought forth repose.

And snugness.

And the warm scent of home.