Beds.
Since last Tuesday I have been on the road and as such have been at the mercy of my friend's as to my sleeping locations. I pride myself on not being picky when it comes to beds. Give me a blanket and a pillow and that is all I really want or need. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a comfy, warm, inviting bed to sleep in, but as long as there is sleep, that is enough.
So let's analyze my beds from the week past. First of all, Kelly's country home. A bed to sleep in with her. She has a comfy big bed with classic barbie sheets and homemade quilts. Tons of pillows. Kelly's is of the warm inviting big bed variety. Besides the natural fear of kicking her in my sleep, it was a lovely Tennessean retreat. Next stop? The apartment of Devon and his roommates. Graciously, Devon abdicates his bed for me when I visit. Jersey sheets. Man colors, but comfy with tons of blankets - the kind that are heavy and weighty and make you just drift off into sleep easily. And then the best part of the break? The bed I get to sleep in at the Neisen's house. The most glorious big comfy bed that exists in the world in the room that used to be Devon's growing up. He has to move to his sisters old room and I get the cushiony, sinking into sleep in the most dreamy of way bed (I feel spoiled). It's the kind of bed that when you wake up you are frustrated that a whole night has gone bed, and you certainly don't want to get up! Once I was pried away, it was on to the apartment of Kindall. As sick as I felt I would have been happy to collapse under my weight and sleep on her precious hardwood floor or classic kitchen, but was instead given her roommate's bed to rest my sleepy head. The bed was perfectly comfortable and warm, but the best part of the bed? The view! The apartment is older and I love the way that old apartments have non-traditional layouts, uneven door frames, and rooms that are too big to be true or hidden or too tall or too short. So I laid there, my last escapade on my road trip of make-shift beds and thought how nice it would be to be in my own bed.
But then, that's the enigma of it all, isn't it? What is MY bed? The bed at my house has changed since I left for college and now graduate school. It has different sheets, different pillows, it is not a familiar feel. Not a bad one, but just not something I'd call mine. The bed I have at school is more so my bed, but it is still not quite there. It is a university issued full sized bed without a box spring. It's pretty thin, but let's be honest, after hours and hours of work and class? A piece of wood would feel like heaven. So what is a home bed? What is the bed that I dream of coming home to? The one that is comfier than any other and that I can call my own? Well, I guess it is like most things in my life right now, it's undetermined. I don't really have an apartment or home or a pet or a constant much of anything tangibly in my life. But I do have this constant sense of feeling loved by friends. The sharing of beds.
Even before my little roadtrip I stayed at my sister and brother-in-law's and slept on their oversized fabulous couch. This past summer? Sarah's couch, my other sister and brother-in-law's couch, a Disney hotel room all to myself, and two different Colorado friend's - an air mattress and a bed shared with LJ. I rang in 2010 in a pull out bed at my Grandma's in Philadelphia. I had my home bed in Tennessee, Alabama and Kansas this past year. I am sure anyone can sit down and list all the places they have been given to sleep besides their bed at what they consider their home and think how strange it is that something so constant and so routine in our lives could vary so much within the course of a year.
So I don't have the answer to this question. But. I am laying here in my Birmingham bed in the room that was mine growing up. I just got a confirmation email from my sister and brother in law that they shipped a new mattress pad to my apartment in Kansas. My parents got me a down comforter for that bed last summer. I have shared that bed with my Mom and with good friends. And maybe I am ready to make that my home bed. The bed that I can't wait to go home to. Does this have implications about how I am transitioning into adulthood? Probably. Does this whole post have implications about my strange way of thinking? Probably. I just couldn't get it out of my mind and needed to write it somewhere.
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