Or, “Our New King-size Bed.”
A large bed has never been important to me. I was perfectly happy with our full when Derwin and I got married. That doesn’t mean I didn’t value my side of the bed: In my freakish need for order and perfection, a foot or elbow on my side had the same effect as a dripping faucet. I couldn’t sleep until the lines of division were negotiated and settled, and all body parts were in their proper place.
We made a lateral move to a cheaply-manufactured queen at some point. But my husband, with his child-like exuberance, broke it. Okay, before your mind wanders, it happened when he flopped his behind onto the corner to put on his shoes or something. This was not unusual; he would often crash onto the bed like a felled tree, or flop around on it like a fish out of water. So since his grown, heavy behind treated the bed like a trampoline, the box-spring and frame had little chance of survival.
We removed the frame, then eventually the box-spring, until finally we were sleeping on just the mattress. Our room looked like a bachelor pad. And as I said, it was a cheap mattress, so we might as well have just slept on the floor. It probably would’ve been more comfortable.
So after much hustling and whining and cajoling from Derwin, we finally purchased a king-sized bed. It was on layaway for a season, and our bundle of joy was delivered the first week in January. I love it! Here’s why.
I was lying in bed in the middle of the night, awake with my eyes closed, contemplating life. Suddenly I wondered if Derwin had come to bed while I’d been asleep. I glanced over, but I couldn’t see anything. I took out my binoculars and tried again. There he was, sleeping quietly. That’s so cool: It’s like he’s on the east coast and I’m on the west, but we’re still in the same country. And I don’t have to hyperventilate over stray elbows and heels infringing my boundaries. With the need to patrol my borders now gone, I am able to sleep peacefully. At least when I’m not contemplating life.
I reached my hand out … all the way out … then I scooched over about a foot and reached out some more … there! I was touching his arm! Yes, I had crossed the border, but he’s not as rigid about these things as I am. He responded to my gesture of peace by snuggling with me. Now that’s love–to wake up in the middle of the night and travel across the country, just to hold me.
It was exactly what I needed. Contemplating life can be depressing when you’re all alone in the dark on the west coast.