Dear Luciana,

I had the same pillow from when I was four until I graduated college.

It was one of the cheapest pillows I have ever used. Feather pillows are supposed to be soft. This one felt like a wet sock filled with sand.

I had a pet T rex when I was five. His left eye was missing and his leg was falling off. People thought the T rex and I were best friends. I was always cheating on him with a pillow.

The pillow didn’t even have a name. Everyone knew what I meant when I said pillow. He was as famous as Cher, or Madonna, or Prince. Just doing pillow things.

It went on every vacation. Every road trip. It has been drooled on. Thrown up on. Eye boogers and real boogers everywhere. Eighteen years of my face.

My family thought it was gross and weird. Which it was. Nobody would dare replace it. If I left it at a hotel we had to go back and get it. That’s probably a true memory. Let’s say it is for the betterment of the blog. It went to college with me. After that my family forgot about it.

If you’ve read my book you can take a guess at what Mommy thought of it. She was always threatening to throw it away. I always refused. Then one day it was gone.

I know. How mean of her. Now my whole book about how amazing she was is completely ruined.

I pretended to be more angry than I was. I kind of knew I was done with it. But I was still kind of pissed. And being angry meant I got to pick dinner. Which if you read the book, that’s a big win.

She bought me a normal feather pillow for like twenty bucks and it was way better. She was still an ass about it.

If you ever have a pillow that’s ten years old and smells like stale drool and baby farts, it’s going in the trash.

But I’m still pissed at Mommy for throwing out mine.

I miss the drool stains.

Besitos,

Daddy