I am indeed capable of learning. Just a few days ago, I was with my peers from work, making soft fleece blankets to donate to kids in need. This was the third or fourth time we did this as a group since I joined the brokerage. The message has imprinted on my brain: simple comfort items are wanted and needed in situations where we don't always expect them. What's more, I know from personal experience that in stressful, painful situations, having something super soft close to my skin can soothe frayed nerves. I am a convert. I believe that blankies are a valuable donation. They can be somewhat personalized, too, giving the recipients something unique to call their own.
In the past, we at Headwaters have given them to young children through a charity clearinghouse that caters to different types of homelessness, as well as to older teens who age out of the foster care system, and are pushed out of homes at 18, with very little to their names. This weekend, I find myself creating a stack of blankets for four specific people, none of whom I have met yet. I hope to meet them next week. As I cut and tie them, I am focusing heavily on who I imagine the recipients to be. I wonder whether I'll be close to right. All I know right now is that all of them are male, a dad and his three sons. I hope that they get as much stress relief from getting and using the blankets as I am from making them, letting the soft fleece calm my hypersensitive skin.
On the way back to my car from the fabric store, I stopped to buy crickets for my lizards. There was a crowd at that particular Petco, with a dog rescue group set up in the front of the store. I didn't intend to go close to them, but while I stood in line to ask for my crickets, I felt compelled to go say hello. First there was "Jack," whose breed was listed as collie, although his head didn't seem narrow enough to be a full-blooded smooth coat collie. He was a lover, though. I got lots of kisses from him. Before I could get away from them, another dog came back from a walk, and made meaningful eye contact with me. "Rufus" was also listed as a collie, and I decided that they were both identified by their color pattern more than anything. Rufus looked like Speed Bump, with a splash of white around his face and neck. I wanted to hug him just for his resemblance to Bumpy, but I doubted he would have appreciated me doing that. I have been dreaming about a dog to fill the hole in my heart left by Bump, and I bet either of those two could provide that sort of comfort. (Plus, Rufus said he was good with cats.) But I have to keep reminding myself that the time is not yet right. The perfect dog is out there somewhere. I just can't push it. When the right dog comes along, we will know.
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