Monday, May 10, 2012
I was sleeping on the couch again. I had insisted for him to let me stay there until I was ready to come to bed. I planned it out before I got home from work that day. I just wanted to drift off to sleep without constraints. Without the idea that I was supposed to because I was in a bed, on a pillow. I wanted something better. That feeling between right before sleep and pure bliss. That’s where I was hiding. I wanted to be in peace. Let the cover take me or not. Let the infomercials play loud, or quiet. It didn’t matter. I just needed to tune it all out. I needed to nap right before bed so I would know how close to real sleep I was coming. So I would know that he knew how important it was.
He made sure I was warm enough, entertained enough by the proper background noise. Never once asked me to go to the bedroom first and get ready just in case we needed a quick transfer. A quick switching of where I was to where I should be. Always should be. That’s what made it all the sweeter. The notion that it’s puzzling to most, bizarre to others, unheard of to many. I would have stayed there till morning. I would have woken with such back pains. I would have thought to myself: it was worth it.