The Beds We Make, The Beds We Lie In

I have owned 5 beds in my adult life-yes I counted. I moved from my parents home to marriage, with no independence in between. The first bed I had as an independent adult, and also married, was a huge, dark brown wooden water bed. So 70's but it was 1992. It was freezing to lay on because the heater was broken or something so we layered thick Mexican blankets on it, so we wouldn't catch our death of cold. The type that had two colors and an animal, like a horse or lion on it.

We took that bed with us to our first apartment. There was barely enough space for it in the bedroom. We did not move it with us when we upgraded to a cute back house with a loft and small bedroom upstairs for our first little one. We, well the husband actually-he just came home with it, I had no input, bought our first new bed in that home. It was a black, wrought iron bed with tall metal bedposts, for a canopy I guess. Though we had the four posts up we never utilized it with a canopy.

It went with us for another move but we did not assemble the canopy bars. The first marital lies were told in that bed. When I moved out and we separated the first time, I did not take the bed. I was done and I had no intention of ever sleeping in that bed again. I had a change  of heart, we reconciled and the bed came with us, though the mattresses got the heave ho!

There was something wrong with that bed though. It kept collapsing. Every so often, the mattresses would mysteriously fall through the frame rails and crash to the floor. I had no idea what caused it but I began to feel annoyed and distrustful of the stability of this bed. Sometimes it was stable and supportive so it didn't seem right to get rid of it.

Eventually, we got lucky and my parents got a new bed and offered their old bed frame to us. It was strong, sturdy wood. I even personalized it by custom painting it a beautifully deep, fuchsia color. The bed remained strong and sturdy as long as we had it. This bed bore witness to even more lies and deceptions. Memories of intimate humilations, kept at bay in the periphery of the past.

It survived another separation, though again, the mattresses did not. Fresh hopes and dreams were conceived on this bed. Healing and forgiveness. Reconciliation came with a new baby. Someone took pity on a momma using an air mattress on this sturdy bed and blessed us with a brand new mattress and bedding set.

Again, hopes were crushed and devastated as the dreams were unsustainable. A completely new start would be needed. I slept alone in the bed as it felt so much bigger than I imagined it ever could. I shortened my nights and time in it by staying up as late as possible. I rearranged it's placement. I cleaned out the closet, got rid of old clothes, swept every corner around it spotless. Still the bed loomed large and empty in the room. I finally gave away that bed, my parents bed, only to learn the recipient wondered if my experiences could be transferred with it. I could only wish my parents loyal love would have been.

I purchased a beautiful, big, sleigh bed, on my own. It was used but I chose, bought and transported it home myself. I didn't know that it would not last. The hope it held was false. As time passed I began to realize that this bed was also unstable. Though the dark wood and commanding size gave the illusion of reliability, again, my mattress came crashing to the floor. I finagled it as best as I could at the time, to hold me up and it worked...for awhile. It supported my long nights of tear entangled prayers.

It survived a moved and all seemed well. Until the night it dangerously came crashing down again--like all my hopes and fears. There was no more repairing it. I knew I had to get rid of this bed, once and for all. It went straight to the trash. I let it go and all the dreams of the future I was holding onto, with it.

Another bed. Chosen for its vintage design as well as it's affordability. It held no false hopes, only a future belonging solely to me. About me. These days it's sturdy enough to hold all three of my kids still at home, (two of which are young adults) and myself on it at once; to watch a movie, do some writing or homework, snuggle or just chat. I can trust this bed. It has all the appropriate supports and gives no indication of weakness. This bed is honest. It holds no secrets. It is light and lovely, yet strong. It's covered in layers of comforting blankets, quilts, sheets, with colorful pillows atop. This bed is our safe space, of sleep and sanctuary.