My Bed Life

February 18th, 2012

In winter, I love to live in bed. The blue-striped duvet cover and simple white furniture create the kind of bedroom I never had as a child — calm, welcoming, quiet. No dark corners, no sadness clinging to the yellowed wallpaper, no mismatched lives bumping up against each other. My childhood was turbulent, and the houses where I grew up were in my memory dusty, unlovely, neglected. I never had a home that was also a haven, and so over the years I’ve struggled to create one, coming a little closer in each place I’ve lived. When the rain is lashing against the windows or the wind is making the gate to the backyard rattle, I burrow into the pile of pillows on my bed and tell myself how lucky I am that I have a snug little harbor. Because I know it’s never a given, never guaranteed, always a gift.

2 Responses to “My Bed Life”

  1. Now I know how lucky I am to have always loved the places I’ve lived–all of them. And I have loved homemaking in the broadest sense of the word, making a place where everyone can retreat, relax, be happy.

  2. Rosa says:

    I sure do like your way of thinking!

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