Fri 25 Mar 2011
The bed where my husband and I slumber seems to time travel and space shift.
There are nights it seems as small as a postage stamp and others when it feels as wide as an ocean.
Naturally, the number of people that camp in our bed, and how we feel about each other at the time, directly impacts our perceptions of our bed’s size.
There was a time it was the sweetest of play mats, and just married we were like delighted kids with new toys on Christmas morning.
Our bed can be telephone booth cozy, the only place of refuge we can talk alone without the kids.
We’ve knelt beside it to pray.
It’s where we brought our babies home from the hospital to nest.
Our bed was also the ground where upon we grieved the babies we lost.
It has taken more than one tour as a sick bed for each of us.
Sick people camp out in our bed.
In it we’ve collectively recovered from ten surgeries and more tummy bugs than we care to count.
Sad children turn to our bed.
Frighten children snuggle in our bed.
Heart broken children cry in our bed.
Our bed makes a big nest for snuggle time and reading books.
It can also be a divided island.
I am always amazed how the bed in which we usually spoon can become two hostile territories we keep even as we sleep.
How crazy is it we can walk walls and maintain hostile guard over an inane fight even when asleep!
More than any other space, however, our bed is the place we simply hold each other.
So often, I fall asleep with the love song of your breathing as my lullaby.
I bite your shoulder,
or hold your hand in mine against my chest,
as I flirt with sleep,
and thank our God,
_who gives and takes away_
for this precious husband,
this gift of time,
and this wonderful place to rest.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah