mattresses

Today marks a new day in my post-marriage life - I got a new mattress. As the mattress delivery guys flirted with me, hauled out my old mattress, and hauled in the new one, I started thinking about all the beds I've slept in over the last 7 months. Well really I started thinking about all the beds I've slept in since I was a child, but I think the last 7 months is more than enough for this blog entry, since I'm guessing it's more than most people's lifetimes.

The beginning of this year found me in a marriage bed, on a mattress purchased by my husband's parents, located in an uninspired bedroom, in a tiny apartment in Silver Spring, MD. This bed became the location of a series of ever-more-complicated arguments and late night discussions about differences and how they just weren't going away. But it was also the location of many fits of shared laughter, lazy Sunday morning reading days together, and a sense of stability and comfort.

Next was a borrowed bed in my friend's basement, where I moved when I left my marriage. Nothing about this bed felt like mine, except that it was the first one I slept in alone for five years. This was the bed where I cried myself to sleep for weeks on end, or punched the pillow or lay awake because it felt so cold and empty. I never seemed to have enough blankets to keep me warm. This bed saw some truly rough times.

From there, I slept in at least 15 different beds all over Europe. Some rented for the night, some offered for free from kind folks along the way. One mattress had a big brown stain, circled in sharpie marker with an arrow pointing to it that said "Yes, this is from sex." I actually felt the least lonely during this rapid-bed-transition time. Maybe it was because all the beds were so small, I didn't have room to feel any absence. Maybe it was because I moved around so much that I started to feel like my only home was my own body.

Upon returning, I moved to my new place in DC - a group house with 3 of my girlfriends. I bought a mattress from a friend of a friend to use here. When I picked it up, not only was the frame broken and the mattress a thin piece of shit, the boxspring didn't fit up my stairs. It was just a little too symbolic to be comfortable. After a few weeks sleeping on the dilapidated mattress on the floor and waking up with spring indents in my side, I broke down and walked to mattress discounters. I walked in and said, "Hi. How can I buy a mattress with no money?" Surprisingly, they had a plan for people just like me. Twenty minutes later, I was the proud owner of my very own, brand-spanking new queen sized mattress and split boxspring.

I guess this is the point where I stop changing beds every couple of months. I should probably count on sleeping on this mattress, in this bedroom, in this single-girl house for awhile. Is that supposed to make me feel independent? All I can think of is that Bill Withers song that says, "I'm tired of looking at lonliness and trying to call it freedom." I'd take dependable love over a new mattress any day.