The safest place

When I was little, there was nothing I loved better than crawling into my parent's bed. There was something about being in their bed that made me happy. My dad was in the Navy and when he was out to sea, my mom let me sleep with her and I loved it. I fell asleep faster and slept better. When my dad came home I went back to my own bed and was only allowed back if I was sick or had a bad dream. Their bed wasn't big, just a full size (the same as mine) and didn't have a luxurious mattress on it, but for some reason their blankets felt warmer and their pillows softer. The smell of my mom's perfume and my dad's aftershave lingered on the sheets and comforted me.

Even into my teens, I loved to crawl into their bed in the early morning hours after they got up to go to get ready for work. When I was sick, I always felt better if I slept the day away in their bed.  When I was 19 and home from college for a break, I had to have my wisdom teeth removed (all 4 were impacted), my dad took me home after surgery and put me straight into their bed where I spent the remainder of the day.   He could have put me in my own bed (I was too looped out to protest), but even he knew the power of their bed.


When I moved out of my parent's house for good, I tried my best to make my bed as comfortable and cozy as the bed I remembered from my childhood. I bought a nice mattress and pillows, soft sheets and thick, heavy blankets (I loved how their blankets cocooned me), but to no avail. I couldn't replicate the feeling. The problem was that I didn't know exactly what the feeling was. I just knew it was how their bed felt.

James Bond and I have a really nice bed. We have a massive king size Tempurpedic mattress that is sheer heaven to sleep in. Indy absolutely loves our bed. He rarely sleeps with us; we already share it with 3 dogs who take up half the space; not to mention the fact that Indy practices some sort of Spongebob-style karate, which inevitably leads to me waking with a foot in my face and James Bond receiving a well placed fist to the groin, and Indy talks in his sleep, leaving me and JB bleary eyes in the mornings.  Often in the morning Indy come crawl in bed with me after James Bond gets up for PT though. He especially likes to curl up next to me when it's cold outside.  We have radiators, not central heating, so it's often chilly in the house in the mornings.  He'll lay next to me and put his cold little feet against my legs and wrap his arms around me.  It's the sweetest feeling.  He commented the other day (it was a particularly chilly morning) how "comfy and cozy" our bed is. He said he always feel safe when he gets in our bed. This made me reflect on how I felt in my own parent's bed and I realized the he nailed it. It wasn't that their bed was more comfortable than mine, or had better pillows or sheets or whatever, it was that their bed was safe. There were no monsters under it and there was no "little red devil" (who tells kids these stories?) trying to get under the blankets to get me. Their bed was a haven of love and security and safety.  It comforts me to know that Indy feels the same about our bed and I hope he carries the same memories with him when he becomes a dad and allows his kids to curl up next to him on a cold morning.