Comfort

I wake up anticipating my alarm about to ring at this ungodly early hour. I turn my body over and see there is another 30 minutes before it rings, loud enough to wake up my neighbors below me, I’m sure. I try going back to sleep but I can’t. I’m tired, dead tired, but knowing what I have to do soon keeps me up. I’m anxiety ridden. I’m not entirely sure why but I have some idea.

It’s no use. I toss and turn, bundle myself in a cocoon of thick blankets and try to find a comfortable position but I can’t. I lay there, eyes open, wrapped up and in the fetal position staring at the wall. The sun still slumbers beneath the horizon, lulled by the sounds of passing cars and a lone bird chirping.

I take this time I have, this limbo between the deep night and the beginning of dawn, and cherish what I’m about to lose. I let myself sink into the mattress, close my eyes and try to hold on to this moment. A cool breeze blows through the kitchen window and finds me on the living room floor. A refreshing gift, and with it, I fall asleep…

…and as if a minute passed by, my alarm screams and vibrates on the hardwood floor. I barely think about my neighbors down below, wonder if they would be waking up too, before stretching my arm and ending the unnatural sound that pierced the peaceful night. I force myself to stay awake, widening my eyes and taking deep breathes as I labor to get on my feet.

Standing next to my bed, the blankets that once covered me from head to toe fall to the floor leaving me half naked and exposed. That cool breeze suddenly feels like a sharp cold stab sending shivers up my spine. A sense of emptiness pours over me, starring at this bed on the living room floor. A lone street light a block away finds its way through the trees and into the apartment, casting a small glow into the empty room. Pictures taken down, couches, tables and chairs taken away, rugs removed. Just myself and the mattress. The emptiness within me solidifies with memories of the last two years.

I saved enough money two summers back to buy this mattress to help with my back issues. My former mattress just wasn’t cutting it and I was becoming a cantankerous person throughout the first half of my days. It was an experience I was ready to do away with. A bed is something to rely on after a long day at work, a long trip away from home, or after a being in a fight with a friend. You know that your bed will always be there.

It’s where I hunkered down in the winter, under thick blankets watching great films and reading some fantastic books. Or how about that time I hosted a party with my roommate and offered my bed to two girls who were too drunk to drive back home. They instantly fell asleep and I tried, without much success, to sleep on the rug next to my bed like an obedient dog. I’ve given up my bed to more than a few drunken people, so long as I knew they weren’t leaving drunk.  Eventually I would share my bed with my girlfriend, embracing her and being comforted knowing that we can grow closer by sharing this space together. Of course there was also the time where I plopped myself too hard onto my bed after a very long day of work, and broke part of the frame, which sloped the left side of the mattress, the best side of the mattress.  I continued lying on that side regardless, because I felt a sense of comfort and security on that side.

Looking down at the mattress, I breathe in, let out a long sigh, and grab ahold of the mattress pulling it up and through my front door. I forget how heavy it is, and my grip slips as I pull the bed harder across the carpeted hallway. I see my destination at the other end of the corridor, a tunnel that only seems to stretch further the more I walk through it. Pushing and pulling I finally drag my mattress to the end of the hall. I look through the window and see the black sky turn a dark blue, hints of the morning sun preparing to peak through to welcome a new day. I prop my bed on its side against the wall and look at it one more time.  That sadness still whirling inside of me one final time. Then I remember I’m upgrading to a king size bed and sharing it with the woman I love, that same girlfriend from before.  Better comfort, same sense of security and a chance to make new memories.

Everything will be just fine.