This was the sole entry in one of my mother's journal's, found among her things after she died in November 2002...
~ Winter, 1986 ~
They're taking my bed away today.
I should be glad, relieved. It is too big.
I have those lovely old spool headboards for new twin beds. Much more practical. The room will be new and different with twin beds. Sensible decision -- but they are taking my bed away!
It was Our bed when we bought it.
New job, new city, new house, new bed.
Foam rubber, FIRM, king-size.
In the beginning we couldn't get used to the size, felt lost. Slept close together in the middle -- spoon fashion! Many new experiences in the new bed. Like being on vacation in a hotel.
Then it became a gathering place -- a little person crawling in under the covers in the middle of the night -- bad dreams. A place for confidences or crowded with offspring and conversation.
Some nights that king-size bed was a mile wide -- a lonely place with only a turned back on the other side. But in our big old bed, apology and forgiveness was only a wiggle-over-and-snuggle away.
Usually, not always.
Then -- after a heart attack, the width was needed for quiet rest, but it was only an arm's reach away to feel the comforting rise and fall of a breathing, healing, chest.
And then that dark, bitter night when one side would be empty forever. Both sides were mine then. No more wiggling way over to the other side to get warm. The whole bed was cold.
The whole world was cold.
Sometimes a child would come creeping in the night -- for comforting, for giving comfort. And gradually, the bed became again a place of refuge, to get into early to read a good book, or to watch TV, or search the Scriptures for words of understanding.
Slowly, healing came. The house sold, those ties were cut -- and no one wanted the king-size bed. So it went to the new smaller place -- with just me this time -- new lifestyle, new things to cope with. No fights now, no cold back-turnings...no lovings either. Just hug a pillow and go to sleep -- or read half the night. But still that bed was home.
Eventually -- someone needed a bed, so, give the darned big thing away.
A king-sized bed with no king is no bargain. Good decision.
But in the middle of the night -- wide awake!
How can I give away my BED? It's like giving away my underwear, unwashed! It's like cutting the LAST tie. It's like getting ready to die -- giving away my effects. I must be crazy.
But isn't it sensible!
Wipe your tears, old girl.
What do you want -- innerspring or foam? Twin bedspreads or coverlets?
A new page. Another new page. Well, the book's not finished.
Dear Lord, what's in store?
When this was written in 1986, my mother was 70 years old.
In 1996, at age 80 -- after 25 years alone -- she married an old friend from her girlhood.
They slept in a double bed.
NOVEMBER 28, 2010 12:06AM