When I was a child, I had a yellow wool baby blanket. Soft and comforting like any other baby blanket but unlike most children’s baby blankets who have become torn and tattered, mine is in impeccable shape since my mother refused to let me bring it anywhere I pleased. Although my blanket holds significant value on a nostalgic level (for both myself and my mother), it holds no other signification of my background or culture. Having a traditional or cultural relation to items of your past will create an everlasting attachment to that item, and even though I solely value my baby blanket on the memories that are embedded within the blanket, the preceding Turkish baby blanket’s Turkish patterns, embroidery and bright colors, to me, are a representation of the identify of the one who possesses it.