Hannah Blustein
Mr. Kalin
OCCC English
November 20, 2014

Everyone has an object that can comfort them, no matter the circumstances. For me, that object is my bed. During the summer before fourth grade, my parents decided to move, an idea that filled me with anxiety. Moving meant a new home, a new school, and new friends. Together, my parents, my sister, and I started looking for a new house. As fate would have it, my mom fell in love with a colonial house on Chestnut Lane, but I fell in love with something else. In the guest room, there was a bed that my nine year old self believed was fit for royalty. It was a beautiful, black, four poster, queen size, and it was going to belong to me; I was sure of it. I prepared my argument. I explained to my parents that they were uprooting me from my old life and that the least I deserved was a bed fit for a queen. Somehow that seemingly illogical argument persuaded my parents to include the bed in our purchase contract. For a young girl, this was a time of celebration; it felt like a rite of passage, leaving behind the antique white, twin size, princess sleigh bed I’d had since I was two. To cover my new, queen size mattress, I had to choose new sheets and blankets. This was an exciting yet arduous task. I was determined to pick the perfect bedding for me, which required the perfect shade of robin’s egg blue, the exact one that colors Tiffany & Co. gift boxes. But that was too easy. It also had to have white in it, like the ribbons that

adorn the gift boxes, and black, like the logo’s font. After many trials and tribulations, I had found the bedding for me. Still decorating my bed eight years later is my Delia’s floral comforter in white, black and blue, which always smells like lavender. My favorite thing about my bed is its ever changing feel. During the winter, it is as warm as a fireplace with an