It was his prized possession. When he was tired he would run over to his crib and pull it through the bars. He would climb up on my lap in the rocking chair and snuggle that blanket to read a book and settle in for sleep with his bop (pacifier). I had to wash it. Believe me, I didn’t want to, but it was getting pretty gross. I’m sad. His smell has long since vanished, but now I know that I’ve washed away his touch. You never lose someone all at once, but rather in pieces. I knew this. Doesn’t make it any easier.