Let’s Go To Sleep.

Write About Love #2.

There are so many places we’ve fallen asleep together.

So many times we collapsed in drunkenness in your unbearably uncomfortable day bed, only a double with no room to maintain personal space, and were rudely woken by the sun shining in through the curtains, the Sun Giant being erected next door offering no shade, no reprieve from the harsh light of day. Those were the earliest days, before we were “us.”

Our wretched basement apartments were like caves. The tiny windows kept it dark, but being underground left us cold, piling on comforter after comforter and pulling them up to our chins, huddling close together to keep warm. We always woke up like bears from hibernation: groggy, lethargic, but smiling.

Your bedroom now is so small that it feels like we take up the entire room.

The strange places even felt less strange with you next to me. In our parents’ houses we were forced to sleep in separate rooms, but you would always come in the early morning before anyone else was awake, just to lie next to me for a few minutes. Our friends’s sectional sofas were lumpy and uninviting, our bodies forming a ninety-degree angle with our heads meeting at the corner so as not be so far apart. Hotel rooms, for weddings near and far, with king size beds as big as boats. Even with so much room, we still slept in the middle of the bed, our hands holding tight together through the night.

My favorite place was my hallway room. I put up bookshelves and thick sheets as a wall to surround my mattress on the floor, but we could still hear people opening the door and walking past to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It was like a little cubbie-hole, or a fort, just for us. The best nights were the rainy nights: we would cuddle up and leave the window open so that the soft roar of the pouring rain could gently lull us to sleep like a music box. The next day I would always find little pieces of leaves in my bed that stole in through the open window in the middle of the night, a reminder of the magic of those rainy nights. I hated that apartment and that room, but I miss falling asleep with you there.


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