“A Simple Story of Bed and I ”
As a bona fide member of a basketball team number of siblings, I did not have my own bed until I was 8 years old. Even then, not sure how I was supposed to occupy a 6 ft. long bed by myself, I often asked my sister to join our beds together. I somehow felt that space was there to be occupied, to be filled up.
When I separated from my husband, I could not face the thought of an empty bed. Often in the dead of night, I would wander into the room of my mother and ask her if I could sleep with her. I was this nocturnal creature who would fall asleep in front of the TV or on the dining table’s chairs and beside my son’s bed. Anywhere except my own empty bed that seemed to miss a huge lump for me to bump into at night.
Finally, to wean me away, my mother changed my bed and gave me one that was so narrow; there was space only for me between five pillows and the wall. I felt ensconced and better yet, like I was on a crowded bed.
From that time on, no matter how I would redecorate my room, my narrow good only for one bed was always against the wall. No matter what new furniture I would put in the room, the bed was always against the wall.
Realization by itself is not an insight you immediately use or a thought that spurs you to action. Most often it is a nugget that swirls in your brain and slowly takes root. An incident, a phrase, a movie or just a trivial thought that would act as a catalyst. Bits and pieces, of the entire idea, are flowing in your brain, and connecting. Until it becomes whole and identifiable, an idea your mind can grasp in its entirety and learn from.
In the years to follow, my one dilemma in traveling was the thought of my bed in hotel rooms. Whether I was in Manila or Cebu and out of my own bed, I would always ask for an extra pillow. For as you know all single matrimonial beds are positioned right smack in the room; both sides accessible for you to be able to climb on to. But even with the extra pillows, my sleep was often fragmented; I could not press my back against a hard surface. There was this gap, which lay there, empty. You don’t know if you haven’t been single in a long time, how vexing it is to have that space proclaiming your bed is half empty. I would (a force of habit) fall asleep anywhere else except on THE BED (caps all mine).
Fun was sleeping sardines style with friends. Even if I had to sleep fetus like – I was in my element. The point was the bed was full of other people and I was not alone.
This year, after much redecorating I was forced to finally have a bigger bed. The room I occupy is smaller and the beds’ frame is heavier. For practical reasons, it stands alone in the middle of the room and to change its position would mean eliminating my precious shoe rack.
Looking back it is only now that I realize that, I’ve finally grown comfortable with empty spaces around me. I don’t feel the urge to fill it up or endure a bed companion for the sake of not being alone. Sleeping is no longer just a necessity where white bed sheets and pillows are the norm.
My bed is now my new home; I love color coordinating my blankets and pillows. I want colors and put perfume all over the bed. A bundle of books are always at the opposite side of the bed, for me to reach out to read or just browse through. There is anticipation in the air, as I prepare for bed to lie down and finally sleep the sleep of the just.
Such fuss over the simple but really not so simple matter of lying down and sleeping. For you see, you’re spending 1/3 of your life recuperating lost energy at sleep.
Now, I feel no anxiety, my spirit is comfortable in its skin and space is a needed companion.
Physical space has finally become my necessity. A necessary chasm that all humans must perforce desire and have, in order for them to become more fiercely their own person.
From this perspective, I can now sleep in any hotel in Manila or Cebu, but can I live there?
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