2001-11-05-3:05 p.m.

I love my bed.

Every time I wake up and hug my pillow with a big wad of my soft, fluffy comforter close under my chin, I think: I'm so glad I have my bed and I'm not in a concentration camp somewhere lying on a cold, thin, mattress without a sheet -or maybe even on the floor.

I think about concentration camps a lot, I guess because I read about Corri Ten Boom when I was little and things you read when you're little stick with you. I remember they had lice all the time and they just went ahead and ate the bugs in their food because what choice did they have?

So my bed makes me think of how grateful I am that I don't have to be in a concentration camp like lots of people have been and I know that if I ever was in one what I would miss most is my nice, warm, soft bed.

I really like it when I wake up early and no one else is up and I can just lie there enjoying my bed, and it's quiet enough that I can go back to sleep if I want or just lie there in all that softness and think about how lucky I am.

Going to sleep is not nearly as good as staying in bed when you're already there because when I get IN bed it's kind of like I'm giving up, like I just can't keep my eyes open any longer or I can't think of anything else to do so, gee, I guess I'll go ahead and get in bed. It's like the least attractive possibility and all that's left. But waking up and staying in bed is the best thing I can think of. I'd rather do that than make breakfast, for goodness sake, or put clothes in the washer or brush my teeth. Nothing ever looks as good as being in bed when I'm already in it.

One thing that's even better is when my three year old comes and gets in bed with me and he says, "I love your bed" and then we both go back to sleep all warm with big wads of comforter under our chins.

previous-next