Going to bed

As a child going to bed was horrible. I was missing out on what the grown ups were doing down below. Plus wrinkles in the sheets and the Kleenex my grandmother stuck under my pillow could work its way down to my feet and become creepy crawlies. King Kong could be waiting outside my window waiting to carry me off to New York, a city I wanted to see, but I wanted to go in more conventional transportation modes. I vowed when I grewup I would only go to bed when I wanted to.

Now going to bed is a treat, especially in cold weather. The shutters are closed for in Europe shutters work. I even admit to owning a hot water bottle, albeit hidden in a fluffy polar bear cover. Getting dressed in flannel pajamas and proning my body is a joy as I wait for my body heat to begin to create an oven on low.

My daughter claims I pretend to read, for I often fall asleep still wearing my glasses, but there are the nights that I am still turning pages at 2 a.m. not wanting to wait until the morning to find out what happens next.

Last night was the first real night of winter sleep. The wind was blowing and I could hear the trees talking to teach other. Environmentally and economically the house is kept cold. It is healthier to put on another sweater. I wore sweats but left my polar bear water bottle on the shelf. I had a book on women’s lives and read from the autobiography Harriet Jacobs and was content that nothing jarred with the slave diary I had created for a still unpublished life. Sometime during the night Munchkin was purring in the room, but not on my bed.
We went out to breakfast in the morning and separating my body from the sheets was a dite traumatic, but the cocoon awaits for me tonight.

However, I did keep my childhood vow on going to bed when I wanted to.