There are some nights when I get into my bed, climb in between the softness of the sheets, pulling the big down comforter on top of me and just feel a depth of gratitude, big as the whole Eastern seaboard. My body melts into the mattress, my neck stops its incessant desire to be right next to my ears. My breath becomes more even, I sigh a debt to the warmth and security I feel in this space.
The comfort of a safe place to lay yourself down to rest cannot be underestimated. It’s sort of a minor miracle. I listen to the breath of my dog (sometimes the snoring!) and let the darkness surround me, the quiet, except for the faint sound of my husband watching tv downstairs (I am always first to bed). I think to myself, for this, you are lucky, for this bed, for this room, for this moment, you are so lucky.
