Beddy-Bye: The End of an Era

So okay, this one's not on the list, but I just could not let this momentous occasion go by without pausing to pay it the proper respect. Did I break a world record on my bike? (I wish). Did money start growing on my plumeria tree? (Jeremy wishes). Did one of Jeremy's little swimmers make it past the goalie? (Malin wishes). No, nope, and nay. But something else very important, exciting, and kind of sad has, in fact, occurred...

We bought a new bed.

Wouldn't be a big deal, except that we got a Tempur Pedic Celebrity Bed...yeah baby, click that link and check that beauty out. It cost us lots and lots of hard earned money, but since we won't be needing another one until we're 44 and 48 (There's a 20 year air-tight warranty), we decided ten buckeroos every month till then for a perfect night's sleep seemed well worth it.

But what made me sad about it all was what we had to give up that money couldn't buy.

Our old bed.

Oh yeah...maybe it doesn't seem like much to you: two Jer and Starlet sized divots on our respective sides, flat-as-a-pancake edges where there used to be rigid ones, old ugly canvas surrounding the much less fancy non-memory foam of yester-year...all of which--proving true to form--has no memory of ever being buoyant or comfortable. But for all it's humble appearances, it sure has served our marriage well.

It has survived moves from four cities, carried us through five of our six years of marriage, and held our (ever-fluctuating) weight, night after night, for five years running. It has beckoned us from our travels, and comforted us when we're home. It has cradled me in my many years of constant sickness (thank God that's over!), and has protected Jeremy's injury-prone back from hurt. Perhaps most importantly, it has taken us from the novice sex-ers we began marriage as to the crazy kink-loving fiends we are today (Sorry, had to throw that in). In truth, it as been much more than a bed. It has been a haven: a place to call home when we didn't have one, a place to call ours when we had no place of our own, a place to be safe when nowhere else felt secure.

Unfortunately, however, it's time had come. Jeremy's back threw out for no reason, I was getting head-aches and waking up in the middle of the night. And when we took a step back and looked at our faithful bed we saw that the holes that marked where we slept no longer could be covered with my strategic smoothing of the covers. When Jeremy's back didn't improve and my headaches spread to my neck and shoulders, we decided it was time.

When the Tempur Pedic delivery men came to delivery our new bed, they asked if we would like them to take our old bed away--just like that--and I found I could not answer right away. Sure, we had said goodbye (ahem) to it the night before, but "take it away" sounded so callous, like we were turning our backs on a friend or putting down a pet after years of unwavering faithfulness and loyalty. I almost panicked a little. I knew the moment would come, but it was happening so fast. "Where could I store it?" I found myself thinking wildly as I ran in the house under the pretense of "asking my husband". I went to it and put my hand on it and said "Goodbye, bed. Thank you. You've been good to us." I immediately felt better. It knew that it's time had come too. It wanted us to be happy and comfortable again and knew it could no longer provide that for us. It almost seemed to tell me, "It's okay, Starlet. Let me go. Let me go."

And so I did. I went out to tell the men it was okay to take it away.

As they hauled it out, I went to put my hand on Jeremy's arm. I just needed to be touching him somehow. When the single most cherished piece of our furniture collection--the one most representative of our marriage--was being carried away forever, it just didn't seem right not to be connected to my husband (even if he was busy stuffing his face with fork-fulls of burrito).

And that was it. It was gone. It happened in less than one minute.

There was silence. (Except for the continued stuffing of the burrito).

As they disappeared out my door and I heard them scraping their way against the bushes down our narrow walkway, I couldn't help but hold back a tear or two.

But then, seconds later, there was scraping coming the other way. The delivery men were on their way back in, and in their hands was a brand new, beautiful, therapeutic, state of the art, NASA and Space Foundation certified, mind boggling ginormous California King sized Tempur Pedic Celebrity Bed (go ahead, you can look at it again if you want).

It was our future.

This is where we will get 20 years, 240 months, and 7,300 nights, of peaceful perfect sleep--guaranteed. This is where we will be cradled and pampered into dreamland night after night after night after night. This is where we will always feel like royalty. This is where we will conceive our children, rest when they have worn us out, and hold family snuggle sessions when they crawl in to join us. This is where my husband will run his fingers through my hair when I am upset, and where I will sing him lullabys on his way to sleep. This is where we will spend our Saturday sleep-in's and where we will long to be when the day gets long and we are weary. This is where we will sleep for the best years of our lives--for the youth of our adulthood. This will be our new haven, our island away from the world when nowhere else feels safe, our sanctuary in an uncertain world.

As it took the place of our beloved deceased in the bed-frame (kudos to Troy for building it, because its California King measurements are absolutely perfect), I realized that there was so much ahead of us, so much to look forward to--and that holding on the an old uncomfortable piece of foam was a pretty stupid idea. After all, that's all our old bed was...a piece of foam with canvas wrapped around it. It wasn't the bed itself that was special, it was what my husband and I made of it that was special. And I knew that we would bring the same (and more!) love and joy to this new bed--and to this stage of our lives together--that we had bought to the one before it.

So in honor of our fallen friend, Futon Mattress, I lift my proverbial glass. No one could say she wasn't a fighter, having battled the effects of gravity and cheap materials, struggling against hope to be comfortable for as long as possible, until, on October 24th at 2pm, she finally gave in, and--after 5 years of faithful service--succumbed to the wide-spread mattress epidemic, Wearing Out.

Futon, we know that even now you are looking down kindly upon us, and as we raise our (proverbial) glasses to you today, we want you to know that you were loved, cared for, and deeply cherished. Know that you will be missed, and that though we may have replaced you, you will always have a special place in our hearts that no other Mattress can touch. Your struggle for usefulness did not go unnoticed and was not in vain. We honor your fighting spirit today and everyday henceforth.

May ye rest in peace.