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Word Count: 399
My blanket was quilted and many times my size It was stuffed with cotton and dyed with pictures of cats and dogs It was my first birthday present and it never left my sideI named my blanket Tucky To this day I dont know what the word meant to me Maybe I called it Tucky because I tucked two fingers on my left hand in my mouth whenever I held it Or maybe I was thinking of how good it felt when my mother tucked me in at night and my blanket covered and protected me As long as it was near me I was invincibleAs I grew up my blanket grew older With every squeeze it lost stuffing With every tug another hole appeared By the time I was seven Tucky was nothing more than a soft worn rag and I loved itAround that time I knew I couldnt keep my blanket much longer My mother was already forcing my fingers from my mouth and Tuckys softness from my hands I had to find new sources of securtiy and protection some of them in myself But I missed my blanket on those nights when the thunder seemed overwhelming or when I needed a friendEven though Ive outgrown my security blanket I havent forgotten it I still know its exact location at the back of my clothes drawer on the left side Sometimes I want to take it out and brush it up against my cheek I tried recently to stuff my fingers in my mouth but they just wont nestle as nicely as they used to But most of the time just the thought of Tucky can ease the stress of an exam or calm my nerves before I sing It will always be there in its ragged greatness ready to give me comfort when Im troubled or have lost my confidenceIt feels strange to reveal these things since the world regards me as
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