Through the Eyes Of Stoosh

http://writeonedge.com/2012/01/remembered-personification/ I saw this challenge on a new friends blog. You are supposed to write a short article from the perspective of an object. What you see below is from the point of view of the best pillow ever, Stoosh.

I have to be honest. By the time she came along I had spent years in the top of that guest closet. I had pretty much decided that I was at the end of my road. I had begun to forget my previous life. That small closet and the comfort of the hand made quilts that surrounded me were all I knew. I ensured the faded yellow quilt that I was not sad. I had had a good life.
Then in 1989 the Girl showed up for a sleep over. She and her little sister were the daughters of the Man's new girlfriend. I will never forget that night. As soon as she put her frizzy brown head
(She had not yet learned about not running brushes through her curly hair after it was dry) on me, I was in love. She told her sister that I was the most comfortable pillow ever.
The next morning she asked the Man if she could have me. And he said YES!
I have been with the Girl since. I was there when her mom married the Man and she moved out into the country. I was there when she lay in the bed with her sister talking about how scared she was to ride a new bus to school on the first day of eighth grade. It wasn't fair that the girls had to ride two different buses. Their whole lives they had ridden to school with the same people. I was there in high school to absorb her tears when she cried over the boys. I went with her to Mississippi State in August of 1995. And every single time she came home, I was there with her.
I was there in 1996 when they brought her new niece home from the hospital. Her mom gave her a hard time about laying that pretty baby on me in her lap. She thought I was dirty. The Girl just laughed and said that I would be there in the bed at the hospital when her babies were born. Her mom just shook her head.
I was there the first time the Boyfriend spent the night in 1998. Looking back I can't believe that they both slept in that twin size bed. Even more impressive was that she shared me with him. She had never let anyone else lay their head on me (other than her sweet baby niece) at night in the nine years we had been together. I remember how happy the Girl was. I remember when he became the Husband the very next year. I was glad that he would be with us forever. Most nights, I spend pressed against the side of his face. I have always appreciated the fact that he doesn't seem to mind me being there.
I remember when the Girl ran in screaming and crying and laughing and jumped on the bed to tell the Husband that she was pregnant. I am here to tell you that if not for me, she would not have slept a wink in the 18 month she has spent pregnant. As the girl had predicted, I was there at the hospital when she had her babies. Her mom made sure that I had three layers of clean pillow cases even though the Girl washed me three times before taking me to the hospital.
Some of my favorite memories are of the girl laying those sweet babies on me while she fed them and held them close. I also loved when the Boy got older and he would ask to sleep on me. The Girl would often let me comfort him to sleep when he was sick. Just this morning the boy and his Sister  crawled in bed with their mom to snuggle. They lay there and told her they loved her while I cradled the boys head (It is not as curly as it used to be. I think he may be growing up on us) and the little Girl ran my pillow case through her fingers. 
I have been with the girl for 23 years. Sometimes that is hard to believe. We have only spent a handful of nights apart. A few times I have spent the night with the Husband, the Boy, and the Little Girl because the Girl had to go somewhere on an airplane. I have also spent two nights in an overnight shipping box because the Girl accidentally forgot me at her Mom's. Even though the mom insists she doesn't like me, she always gets me back to her Girl as quickly as possible.
Twenty three years...wow. It really does seem like just yesterday that I was in the top of that closet telling the faded handmade quilt how good my life had been.