~ from OCTOBER 2004 ~
It is, perhaps, my favorite room in the house. There is a sanctity to it, a quietude and tranquility not found in any other spot. A place of repose and calm. Our bedroom, with its shades of blue, lavender, periwinkle – no television, no stereo, no distraction, no inlets, no outlets to the rest of the world – it is a meditative Mecca of peace, of sweet slumber.
In summer it is cool – a light, airy space, and a fan humming in the corner, sending out billows of air molecules over hot skin. In the middle of the night Andy brings a cool glass of water, proffered without thought or request. I didn’t think to ask, but it is always exactly what I want. He places it gently onto the bedside table, beneath a tissue, moving my book and my glasses. I thank him, sitting up and taking a few sips to show my gratitude. The water is cool and refreshing.
In the winter the bedroom takes o a different feeling – one of coziness and warmth – the welcoming folds of blankets, and Andy, groggy and sleepy-eyed – a haven of contentment, his body emanating heat and security. It is a safeness I don’t ever want to leave on cold winter mornings.
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