My grandma´s blanket is to me the most priced possession I own. Since the day I was born, and ‘til the end of days, I guess, this blanket will be with me through thick and thin. It remains by my side at nights and stares back at day time demanding attention. My grandma and I have been so close and since I can remember, she is my inspiration. Her essence, though intangible, fills me with hope and coziness. In my hardest moments, when I am about to give up on myself, there she is cheering me up. Even in life decisions her opinion and advice become my motto. And so they come, these dreams of me floating around the sky and rooftops, this time entering the window of my grandmother’s room back in the beginning of the new year in 1998. There I was, looking at my grandma knit and think about how her first-born granddaughter was about to be introduced into this world. In some kind of way, I could visualize a part of her spirit flowing out of her head, like some sort of aroma of a fresh perfume, all through her arms, neck and all the way down through her chest to melt down into the blanket’s yarn in her hands. Was she surprised or scared? Was she filled with happiness or mixed emotions? Though I knew I will never figure out the answers to those questions, I sure did know she was willing to fly for me through the streets of Monterrey at 6 a.m. that cold January morning, dancing to the beat of Con Te Partirò by Andrea Bocelli. Taking her recently finished blanket to her most priced little girl was her priority at that moment. Now it began, the start of a new relationship between a little girl and a knit blanket. These dreams I’ve talked about before continue, but now focusing on the aftermath. And so I fly now to Adriana’s home in her very first year of age. Everything made sense now, she was wrapped in her little knit blanket sleeping, with a smirk in her tiny mouth showing how comfortable and protected she felt. All of a sudden this sort of shadow starting to emerge from the blanket she was wrapped in, like some sort of aroma of a fresh perfume. By her side was this shadow, of someone I found really familiar, just looking down at her. Now these were the last words I heard, “My dear sweet baby, I will take care of you all through out your life just remember to never leave me forgotten”. Suddenly I woke up to this strange feeling and there it was, my little knit blanket. (455 words)