Sleepovers did not happen without my covey.  The tattered blanket looked like a ball of spaghetti, but I would bring it with me everywhere I went.  Mom washed it often, but always when I was awake because I could not sleep without it.  Chenille: cold, soft, and comforting.
My friends know I have a covey.  Sometimes they make remarks about it, but I am very comfortable and confident to be 22 years old with a security blanket.
I can carry it around day and night.
I hold on to it real tight.
A little scrap piece is all I got.
I know it’s small but I love it a lot!
My cousin took his covey to college.   He hid it in his pillowcase so people would not see it.  When he slept, he would put his hands inside the case to capture the sense of safety it provided him.  He took it to Georgetown when he went to medical school.  He is married with 3 children and sleeps with it under his pillow every night.  His wife knows about it and wants to put it away in the closet because he is “too old” to need a security blanket.  She does not know the sense of security these blankets provide, the sense of joy they give to you.  He will not give up his, and I will not give up mine.
I’ll give it up if you wash it in a hurry.
I’ll give it up cause it’s smelling pretty dirty
but when it’s clean I’ll keep it ‘till I’m thirty.


 —Sarah Charlick, “Covey”

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