I still cherish the wool blanket that my grandmother gave me, such luxury is not found anywhere else. Bashny.Net

When my parents got married, my dad's grandmother gave them that wool blanket for their wedding. She said it would be her family heirloom. Now it seems to us - well, what is the relic of the blanket? It was the most valuable thing in any Soviet family. Soviet blanket It was a sign of luxury, especially if it was as thin and warm as wool.



In the average family in the Soviet Union there were two types of blankets - cotton and down. These were the most common blankets that were constantly covered. Cotton blankets were very heavy, and for me, it was a real stone. So they got me a down Chinese blanket. It was light and very warm. It was huge and spread like a pot dough. That's what I called it, the dough.



The blanket of the USSR is natural wool But that gift of grandmother, a wool blanket was stored very carefully. And I only got it on the occasion of long-awaited guests or my illness. The guest had to be very welcome to be offered this blanket for the night. Moreover, if the grandmother did not like the guest and she expressed it with her clenched lips and an evaluative look, then he got the heaviest cotton blanket. Apparently, it was so pressed at night that I no longer wanted to stay at a party. If the guest liked the grandmother, he was offered a thin and warm wool blanket. And the next time, a blanket was attached to this man with an automatic.



As a child, I was a very sickly child. As soon as autumn and seasonal viruses began, I would sneeze and sneeze. As soon as I came from school in this condition, my grandmother immediately wrapped me in this wool blanket and brought tea with raspberries. I don't know what magical property Grandma's tea and raspberries had, which she herself twisted with sugar every year. What magical wool was the blanket made of, but in the morning I woke up as a perfectly healthy child.



When I was a kid, it all seemed fabulous. I wanted to be in the arms of this magical blanket. It seemed incredibly soft, tender and light as a feather. She was as warm as her mother’s love and bright sunshine. When the apartment was already cool, and the heating had not yet turned on, I covered myself with this blanket and my grandmother read me fairy tales. It seemed like you were entering some fabulous world. As a child, everything seems fabulous if you have a loving family around you.



Time passed, childhood ended. I went to study in another city, my grandmother was gone, and the blanket moved to live in the closet. Now it is not available even for the most desirable guests. New modern blankets appeared light, warm and durable. When I came home on vacation, I asked my parents to get me that blanket. I wrapped myself in it again and fell into childhood memories. Where it was so warm, easy and carefree.



I have a son now. He has a beautiful new blanket. But every time I see him pulling that old wool out of the closet. It was already slightly worn out and became noticeably thinner. But the son necessarily wraps himself in it and asks to read him a fairy tale or include his favorite cartoon. And I understand that it is at these moments that he finds himself in the magical country of childhood in which it is so warm and cozy as under a wool blanket from the USSR.