I remember the day that my Nana died. It was early in the morning and I was in Florida with my mother. It was a sad day. A sad week even. It was a year, though, before she died that I'd visited Nana in Bermuda. She was very cute. Crocheting, she was always crocheting. Something about how it helped the arthritis she had in her hands. She was always working on a blanket for someone in the same pattern I'd been looking at since I was a child. Sure, I could probably do that pattern with my eyes closed, but it was more special coming from Nana. Thing is, Nana had never made me a blanket. Everyone else had one in the colors they wanted and I never got one. So when I saw her last I said so. "How comes I never got one of your blankets Nana?" Nana looked at me, "No?" she told me where to go and look for an extra she had someplace in her house and I did. It was the one pictured. Made from all the leftover yarn from all the blankets she'd made throughout the years. I recognized them all. I took my blanket home. Happy because mine was the ONLY ONE like it. Like I was am the only one like me. Just like the blanket I have a bit of Nana, and bits of everyone that I love...never to be repeated.