My first cloth memory is of my baby blanket - my blankie. It was so soft and cream-colored and just the perfect size. I loved the feel of it on my skin - sof,t but slightly nubby. It had texture. And around the edge was the usual satin-type binding. Within one of those covered edges, the blanket was folded, so it formed a sort of lip within the satin cover, along the length of that edge. My favorite thing to do was to unfold that, systematically, as I sucked the thumb on the other hand. It was repetitive and relaxing. I feel calm just thinking about it. I wouldn't stop or let my parents take the blanket away if I was in the middle of that wonderful edge. And, I wouldn't cheat and repeat that edge - I'd make myself go all the way around the blanket til I got to that fold again.
When I wasn't sucking my thumb with it, I was building forts and wrapping my stuffed animals in it. I took it to preschool; during naptime I'd cover my head with it so I could secretively suck my thumb (not allowed!) Ah privacy! And a little disobedience. I loved being in my own world under that blanket, away from all the hustle-bustle of the preschool, free to do what I wanted to do.
In kindergarten my parents decided it was time to give up the blankie . . . so they told me the fairies were going to pick it up & give it to another child. I reluctantly agreed to this - didn't think I had much say in the matter. But I missed that blankie. I told my parents, and a week later poof! they asked the fairies to bring it back. I remember thinking well that wasn't such a struggle now was it? I just asked for it and I'm getting in back. Enjoyed it for a bit longer, and let it go back to the fairies for good.
Still have that blankie in a basket in my closet. When I reach in, the feeling is unmistakable. My blankie.