Woobie

Woobie

By: L.F. Young

26 February 2025

My humbling youthful beginnings, were marked an marred, with tragic hardships. Punctuated with a gross sense of loveless mental abusiveness, gathered within layers upon layers of unmitigated hateful suffering. Cauterizing that youthful notion I once beheld, behind, tearful turmoil’s of fearful tearful nights.

Grasping desperately to my only friend, at that mental molding point in time, solidifying the the relationship of my future endeavors. It was nothing grandiose. Just a small handcrafted piece of cloth I was wrapped within as a babe. From a great grandma I’ve only ever seen once, given in love, wrapping my innocence. An anchor, a conscious reflection of a moment in time when my purity knew know better bounds or stable bonds.

In that briefest of tic-toc’s, the world was my oyster, overflowed with unending dreams and adventures. As I rocked forth and back, to and fro. In the eyes of a babe, my safety was assured by a simple two foot by two foot patch colored woobie. Now a one foot by six inch tattered, stained and saturated veteran. Battle hardened with countless layers of unending silent screams and gallon’s of salty tears.

Since those far off days, my inner nature is vastly transformed. Holding only the faintest wisp of a particle of a fading dream, that’s timidly contrived and exponential fragile. Locked away, surviving in those illusions of innocence’s fruitful fancy free… dreaming away in those vastly fleeting days. In those few moments of me wrapped in a simple homemade blanket as a wee babe.

I reach within my hidden cupboard, draw out a soiled and tattered rage. Desperately trying to breathe in better days. When a great grandma stitched together some leftover pieces of cloth. Then wrapping her only grandchild’s fears away.