My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it. –Ursula K Le Guin
Writing Prompt: Imagination Play. What would my bed say to me if it could talk? What would the tables, chairs, flies on the wall like to say?
We’ve been together for a while now. Five homes in three states. And we’ve been through quite a bit together. Joys, sadness, good sex, bad sex. You’ve fallen into me after days that made you want to never wake up. And you’ve laid down on me wide awake with no chance that you were going to drift off quickly because of the adrenaline of the day.
Through it all, I have been here. Soft, firm, warm, and waiting.
My favorite part of each day is when you climb…and climb you must because you bought a tall version of me…up into me, adjust the pillows, and lean back. The sigh that releases from deep in your chest is the siren for me to begin my work.
What is my work you ask?
My job is to offer you a healing embrace. My work is to move and flow as your body moves from side to side, back to stomach, looking for the best position for deep, restorative sleep. My task is to be the platform, the alter, the holy place that you lay down a day that will never be lived again and prepare your mind, body, and spirt for a day that is to come.
The sound of your deep breath is my heartbeat.
The abandon with which you sleep reminds me that you do not always live with that sort of abandon.
The moments each morning as your physical body slowly makes it way to the waking surface are my holiest moments. They remind me that we are partners in the dark hours. They remind me that my life’s work is to be your safe place…something that I know from being with you has not always been available to you in your 40 years.
So remember…I am safe. I am warm. I am here.
One thing though…you could do me a favor and cover me up during the day and make me pretty before you hit the door. Thanks 😉