Bed: A Love Story

Dear Bed, 

I know we've been a bit disconnected lately. I wanted to write you a letter after everything we’ve been through together. There were times that we didn’t see each other as much as we would have liked. We were more like strangers existing together in peace, more like roommates than lovers — just two ships passing in the night, except I was the ship, and you a sturdy dock. 

You’d wait up for me, expecting me to come to you during the earlier hours of the night. Instead, I’d shuffle in when all was silent; the potential of the night lost because I worked too late at the office, again. And then again. And again. No matter the time of night, you’d greet me readily with much needed rest. 

You've always been there for me, even when I’ve taken you for granted. 

Like the summer I met Jeremy. I stopped returning to you for sleep and turned you into a closet, tossing my clean and sometimes not-so-clean clothes on you while packing another overnight bag. (Jeremy’s cat had separation anxiety.) And when things with him fizzled, you were right there where I left you, with an open comforter, welcoming me back.

Remember all of those sleepless nights, too? The sheets twisted, the traffic loud through the night air. The restless hours I spent scrolling, overhead lights glaring, before my new routine.

These days, our routine is something that helps me relax. Getting into your arms means tapping my Hatch Restore and being greeted with lighting that is just right. A lovely peach that reminds me of a sunset on a tropical island, except where I am, is even better — because I’m embarking on a relaxing journey to rest, with minimal effort and no mosquitos.

The crickets start singing, and I settle into the covers with my book. I meditate for a few minutes before the finale: pink noise. And finally, rest. 

I think about you more often than you know. When I pass by you on my way out the door for work, you think I don’t notice you, but I am always thinking about you. This love note is long overdue; I’ll be the first to admit it. There is no time like the present, and that’s why it’s important I write this to you, now.

“L” is for the way I look at you after a long day. The long days that grab you by the shoulders and jostle you along. When I get home, tired and weary, our eyes meet, and you remind me that I’ll be getting some rest soon. Thank you for always holding me with your arms of down.

“O” is for the only one like you. Yes, there have been others on occasion, but you are special to me. Our bond cannot be broken. You’re the only one with the pillows, especially plump like I prefer them, and the duvet cover, a blushing pink. And you’re the perfect height, not too tall, not too low to the ground. Goldilocks would be delighted.

“V” is very, very, warm, soft, and inviting. The down comforter, three blankets, and spaciousness typically reserved for a queen means there is room for the kids, too. You are the life of the party, the place to be, and a gracious host to those who claim nightmares, even at 3 am. 

And “E” is even more than any other piece of furniture I adore. It’s you. The couch can’t provide the same comfort that you can. And the new kitchen bar stools with the leather seats? They’ve got nothing on you.

Bed, love was made for me and you. Happy Valentine’s Day.

With Rest,

Me