I don’t remember exactly when we were introduced, but you were there through so much of my childhood. I dragged you around, I took you on road trips, and I held you while I slept. Oh, “Pooh blankie," you were with me through it all.

You survived through the time five-year-old me decided to drag my sister around a Gymboree store on top of you. Her and I were very bored while my mom shopped, and you sacrificed your cleanliness so we could have fun. There I was, pretending you were some kind of magic carpet, flying my little sister through the racks and shelves of that store. Thankfully, my mom saved the day by throwing you in the wash to get rid of any icky floor residue.

You somehow made it through the time I had the great idea of turning you into a doll. I was going through a phase where I constantly fantasized about what I would name my future children. I presented you with what I thought was the absolute best name ever: Ava. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, though; what if you would have preferred a name like George, for instance? I then proceeded to tie you up into little knots, constructing you into a rag doll shape. I’m sorry, that must not have felt too great.

You let me hold you in a death grip whenever I was scared or upset as a child. You became saturated with salty tears many times, but you didn’t mind. Back when I struggled with emetophobia (a fear of other people vomiting), I sandwiched you between my fingers and my ears as tight as possible until the whole world was silent. Thank you for comforting me when things weren’t going so well.

You kept yourself hidden when I brought a little piece of you to my first day of sixth grade. You had already been falling apart by then, so I just brought the smallest piece that I could gather up and tie together. I didn't need you, but I thought it would make me happy knowing that you were there. On the last day of school, when I was cleaning out my locker, you were still right where I put you on the first day: shoved in the far corner of the top shelf. Honestly, I had sort of forgotten about you.

You sat, gathering dust, in the little caddy that hung from my lofted bed during my freshman year of college. Of course I didn’t hold you, I didn’t drag you around, and I didn’t sleep with you, but you were there. To this day, you remain in a special place in my bedroom. Even though I’m all grown up and I don’t need you anymore, I haven’t thrown you away. Your simple existence serves as a comforting reminder that there are things, as well as people, who will stay with me throughout all the ups, downs, and milestones my life.