I don't know how I came to have it, but when I was a little girl I had a small down pillow. It was about half the size of a regular pillow, and softer than anything I had ever known. I loved the way I could feel the little feathers inside, and if I worked my fingers just right, I could get a feather shaft to poke out through the cloth and pull it out. I'd tickle my face and arms with it, then probably leave it laying around for Mama to throw away. As I grew older, I didn't outgrow my pillow. I slept with it every night, even when I was in high school.
I don't remember when I finally put my little pillow away, or if I did it by choice. My younger middle sister would often see something she liked and claim it as her own. All I remember is that one day I realized it wasn't there and I couldn't find it. I still think of it from time to time and wonder what happened to it.