this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on August 19, 2000.
Like Linus who has his security blanket, I am also very much attached to a certain object. In my case, it is an old and faded small square pillow.
From what I observe, being attached to an object runs in our family. I have a brother who couldn’t sleep without my mom’s underskirt. My eldest nephew had a pillow with a face, arms and feet. His sister can’t live without her one-eyed stuffed rabbit. Another nephew is attached to a stuffed gorilla named Georgy-Porgy while the youngest finds a twin (sometimes even herself) in Po, the youngest Telletubby.
Unlike Linus, I don’t carry my pillow anywhere I go. Yet I can still remember those times when I held it in my arms while sucking my left thumb. I don’t really know how Linus prefers his blanket but I want my pillow wet and cold. To put myself to sleep, I give my pillow a big bite until it becomes wet with my you-know-what. Then I touch the wet and cold part until I get to dreamland.
You can now imagine how my pillow, you know. . . smells. I’m only human so I drool, too (like everyone else). Living in a tropical country, I couldn’t help but sweat on hot days and nights. When I am sick, my mom wipes on me oils and liniments of various colors and odors. There are also some nights when I cry myself to sleep but that’s getting ahead of my story. Get the picture already? Rather, get the smell already? My mother always asks me how I get to sleep with my pillow. I don’t know. All I know is I find my pillow the best smelling among my 11 other pillows and all the other pillows in the world.
But, the pillow I now have is not the original object of my affection. The first was the one I had when I was a baby until I was, maybe, 10-and it did not smell any better. To stop my unusual behavior (biting my pillow to put myself to sleep), my mother took my small rectangular pillow and hid it somewhere. During a game of taguan, I saw my dear pillow again in a box then gave it my biggest bite. But the taya found me so I had to run toward the beys. That was the last I saw of my beloved pillow. My mother said she threw it away. This, I consider the first ever tragedy of my life.
After many sleepless nights, I received a new pillow from my sister-in-law after throwing a tantrum when she gave my young nephew one. That pillow is the one I have now. It was pink and square with laces on the corners and a cloth on the middle on which a rabbit was painted. Now, after years of bite and bath, its color faded and the rabbit has gone away. My beloved pillow also had multiple changes of wardrobe. The latest was when my young niece pulled it from my mouth while I was biting it. My mother was nice enough to mend the hole but it was not the same anymore. It looked like the pillow version of Frankenstein’s monster. I just can’t express how guilty I was that time. My mother then made a new pillowcase and stitched the laces on the corners which were the last original parts left.
But, the most treasured part of my relationship with my pillow is the friendship that we happen to share. It may sound weird but I am proud to say that my pillow is my best friend.
For quite some nights now, I’ve been having a hard time sleeping. I consider myself lucky if I doze off three to four hours after I lay myself on the bed. During those times, I couldn’t help but be flooded with thoughts, both nice and not, concerning my life.
Just like a real best friend, my pillow keeps me company when I am happy. I spend some nights remembering the nice day I had. I love to hold my pillow, stare at the glow in the dark stars on my room’s ceiling and think of the funny jokes of my teacher or the fish balls my friends and I shared. My pillow also shares with me my dreams. We’re together as I think of which place in Europe to visit first, what topic to write about next for my book or what to buy my mom when I receive my first official pay check.
Most importantly, my pillow is with me whenever I’m down and lonely. There are times I consider those four to five hours of thinking the lowest events of my life. When I have no happy thoughts, I couldn’t help but think of my problems and fears-being alone and losing a person I love. During these times, I don’t have my friends to make me laugh or are there any people to help me make myself brave and strong. I feel so helpless and alone and I can’t do anything about it. Sometimes I just give my pillow a big hug and imagine it as the loved one whom I’ve wanted to hug but had no opportunity to. There were even instances when I woke up with tears in my eyes and my pillow in my arms.
It’s still too early to tell if my nephew and nieces will outgrow the object of their affection, except for my brother and eldest nephew who did. I wish they wouldn’t. It’s really great to have an object for a best friend. At least, it won’t talk back to disagree with you or complain when you expect too much. Neither will it have a boyfriend or be too busy with other stuff to spend some time with you. It may not have ears but it can listen to your woes and worries. It may not have arms but it can return your biggest hugs.
So, when asked what my most favorite thing is, I won’t have second thoughts on my answer to that. My response won’t be my car even though I’ve wanted to have one ever since. Neither will it be my collection of CDs, cassette tapes, VCDs and others even if they already cost me a fortune. My most favorite thing and even my best buddy is my pillow because it keeps me company not only during the highest points of my life but also, and most importantly, when I was sad, alone and afraid. And I thank my pillow very much for these.
