Electric Blanket

Electric Blanket It felt like a bedspread with bones, that light blue electric blanket she'd use to warm her wintry sheets while Dad warmed his car in the driveway before leaving to work the graveyard. She'd always dial the maximum heat on its little white plastic box which glowed and clicked and hummed, working all through the night to shield her from the deepening cold. Sometimes, as my parents chatted, I'd sneak underneath it for a minute and trace the curvy rows of wires sandwiched between thin layers of blanket, toasting the bed wherever I stretched. Now I know how dangerous it was, that low-level electromagnetic field irradiating my mother's cells, the threat of fire or scorching or melting if she forgot to turn it off again, but back then how I craved that blanket easing her to sleep, its atmosphere more comforting than any far-off heaven or summer sky without a cloud or dreamed-of body sharing its living heat. —Michael McFee 29 ...