When the seasons changed and the air turned crisp, bedtime in my childhood home took on a special kind of magic. After a warm bath, my mom would drape our blankets over the heat register so they’d soak up the rising heat. By the time my siblings and I climbed into bed, those blankets were more than just cozy, they were a full-body embrace. That warmth wrapped around us from head to toe, sinking deep into our bones and hearts. It wasn’t just comfort; it was care. It was love, stitched into the simplest nightly ritual.
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Mom on the go in Holy Toledo 