Perfectly cooked crispy bacon
Being brought coffee in bed
My kitty, purring
The scent of freshly cut grass without the noise of the mower/blower
The warmth of the sun on my back
The air when I drive by the cookie factory
Fresh rain on dusty blacktop
Crescent moons on clear, chilly nights
Spooning in the dawn hours
The sound of my pencil on paper
Nutella, spooned straight from the jar
Crackling fires in Autumn
Being loved – despite all my faults
7 am Saturday morning – when I realize I have hours more to sleep
A new haircut
Spaetzle, fried crisp in butter
Nonsensical conversations in bed
Lindor Milk Chocolate Truffles
Napping to the sound of the washing machine
The very last center bite of buttery cinnamon sugar toast
Watering the backyard, barefoot, on a warm summer evening
Wind chimes in a gentle breeze
Sun-warmed tomatoes, straight from the vine
Last weekend, in our chilly cabin in the woods, he would not let go of me as he slept. We haven’t been so entwined since our first few nights together. And back then, it was me (and not he) so wrapped (or rapt?). His arm behind my head, his leg thrown over my thighs, a hand entwined, warm breath on my neck, I felt safe and wanted.
I woke to a bad dream this morning – a dream that left me rattled. I needed those arms, that leg, his hand, his kiss of breath to soothe me, but my bed was empty. I settled on a walk through the neighborhood to clear my head. It helped just a little.
This dream has not left me, yet I’m afraid to say, “I need you tonight”, afraid to have him see me needy. So I will wait until tomorrow, our usual night together, and wrap myself around him tighter still.
The last guy I dated, I couldn’t sleep next to him. After sex, I’d doze for a bit, perhaps, but in the end, I’d find myself crawling from his arms to sleep on the couch. I’d always find my way back between the sheets in the early dawn. The real sleep, the vulnerable hours of my deepest dreaming, was spent elsewhere, away from him. On our vacation, I spent the dead of night in the bedroom next door. At the time, I thought this was an ultimate consequence of a life spent in a single girl’s bed, the final straw.
But my new guy, I sleep with him just fine. He’s worried that his snoring keeps me awake. I assure him that his rhythmic breathing doesn’t bother me at all – and it really doesn’t. That’s not snoring. I’m glad I own my tiny queen bed – no room for us to separate. I smile when he spoons me, feeling his warmth along my back. I need his hand on my hip or my foot on his calf, a gentle reminder that he is there, and I sleep soundly, completely.
Sunday night, I pull my tennis shoes from the back of the closet, motivated to fit in a good walk before work on Monday. Backup plan – I load my 30-minute workout DVD just in case the weather’s nasty. I’m prepared to start Monday off healthy and full of energy!
I head off to bed at 11. I cannot sleep and lull myself towards slumber by reading. The magazine falls from my grasp at midnight.
I’m up again at 2. Why am I awake? Was it these crazy dreams I’ve been experiencing? No more Sci-Fi channel. I get up, go pee, stumble back to bed. Tossing and turning, I try to find a cool spot on the mountain of pillows.
3:30, what was that noise? Two loud bangs and a scraping sound. That wasn’t late-night kitty shenanigans! I turn on my bedside lamp and wait…all is quiet. Please, let me sleep.
At 5 a.m., the lamp is bright in my eyes. I click it off and peek through the drapes – daylight’s fingers are turning the ink just slightly paler. I hear the rain outside the window. I have too much energy, and try rocking myself back to sleep. I eventually succeed.
It’s 6:30 and the sky is an aluminum grey. The traffic noise is picking up. The alarm will go off soon. My head hurts, my eyes are heavy, my limbs feel drugged. No exercise for me this morning. I reset the alarm for 30 more minutes. Sleep, I need more sleep.
7:30 and the alarm sounds. I’m lead. I’m just this side of dead. I drag myself out of bed and towards the caffeinated elixir. Shit, another Monday morning.
Last week, the two huge oaks outside my bedroom window finally received their long deferred pruning. The morning sun, once hidden from my sleeping eyes, now pokes its nose into my room much too early. Here they are, standing silent, at the other end of the day.