Bed....seems like such a simple word, but it is so complicated. I am going to bed. I must be tired. They went to bed. They must like each other. We make our bed and lie in it. Living with choices.
For me, my bed has brought on so much emotion. Every night I go to bed. I walk around the bed to the far side to get in on my side. His side stays empty. I started on the far side to be protected. When I go to the bathroom I walk around the bed. Never climbing over. Never disturbing that space. When I wake only half the bed needs to be made. Half. So symbolic. Seems so simple but represents so much. That half of the bed stays empty. Every night it reminds me of the missing in my life. No matter how much I pretend, that part of me is gone. The bed, the reminder. Oh, to hear the snoring. That snoring that would cause me to shove with all my might to make it stop. Tonight, it would sound like music. Oh, to walk around so I would not wake the man lying there. Oh, to meet in the middle.
For months I stayed up as late as possible so I would crash and not think about or see the bed. Now, the bed awaits every night. A constant reminder of all that was, and all that is no more.
