Ocean of Bed

At the start of this journey, I stayed close to shore. I laid myself gingerly on 'my side' of the bed and stared across the empty space next to me. On the other side of the body pillow I hugged like a life raft, a great empty ocean mocked me. No matter how often I quieted myself and held onto the life preserver, I would wake up confused and lost when I woke up in the uncharted waters. The night stand would be to further away and I had to strain to find the snooze button; the edge of the bed seemed so to great a distance for my short legs to reach to.

So slowly I didn't realize I was doing it, I learned to swim, float, and dive. During my sleep, my body let go and trusted itself. No longer did my toes search out to find that ankle and my back decided that it wasn't searching to lean against something warm anymore. My arms decided they were tired of the fruitless search for a chest to rest on and my head began to race eagerly to the pillow instead of a shoulder. While my brain rested, my body taught what beauty there was in the weightlessness of the ocean that had frightened me a short time before.

Now I stretch to each far corner – testing the limits of the bed. The pillows that used to be body floats are slowly becoming more of a hassle than a reassurance. My limbs have found the easy rhythm of this ocean and they rest quietly in a dreaming back float, no longer searching for anything. We've all found home.