Mommy's Nightgowns

It was easy to miss the small sleeping girl amid the piles of soft fabrics and fluff heaped on the slender bed. I needed at least 7 or 8 stuffed animals snuggled up with me every night, and would rotate them so as not to hurt any of their feelings. My old favorite piggy blanket, old and torn, was tucked somewhere among them. Even, sometimes, plastic toys or dolls would be privileged with a spot on my mattress. But no one object of comfort was so important to me as Mommy's Nightgowns. These nightgowns, my mother's best Talbot's shirts, were soft and cool and smelled of love. If the scent began to wear off, I crept into my parents' room to slide another off its hanger and carry it back to bed with me. Curled up against its smooth familiar flowers, it became my mom, and the glow of her reassuring presence chased away lurking shadow-creatures that crept around the periphery.