My Own Bed

It's been an amazingly hectic morning and afternoon here at home today. It's a good thing I woke up at home, feeling happy and safe. It's a good thing I have Katherine with me to help level off the stress and distress about all the stuff going on. It's a good thing to be in my own space.

When I woke up this morning, I felt good, better than I have in a long time. I suggested to Katherine a way to celebrate. She giggled and said "I have to get up now. Tonight." She got up and got dressed while I lay there, sulking. Then she brought me coffee and breakfast and said "Sit up. Eat. Get dressed." I slid into a seating position; that's when I realized I was at home.

As I slid and wiggled my way upwards, my body moved easily on the sheets beneath me, gliding me upwards as I worked into a sitting position. I knew I was at home, on my 600 thread count, smooth sheets, not the sandpaper sheets from a hotel which yard my underpants down with every move. I looked beside me and realized my clock was right there, where it was supposed to be, not like the hotel clocks, forever on the wrong side of the room.

I realized how grateful I was to be home. Then I got up to go the bathroom and became even more grateful. After an easy transfer to my well place toilet, I did what had to be done. After completion, I washed myself on my bidet seat, something I haven't been able to do for weeks. In hotels I have to use wash cloths and whatever else to clean my derriere; it's not a fun process. Here at home, I can be clean.

My gratitude for home increased as I went into my bedroom to dress. My clothes, all of them, not just a subset, were in my dresser and closet. I had choice, I had more than five shirts and five pairs of underwear and two pairs of jeans. I had the clothes I wanted, right there, The suitcase lays empty on the floor, a reminder of yesterday. Today, I get to dress in whatever I choose.

Then I went into my kitchen for a cup of coffee, my own cup of coffee that I could make for myself. I had milk for it from my fridge, not that powdered crap that exists in every hotel and motel room in the world, or at least almost every room. I didn't worry about missing breakfast; here at home there is no cut-off time for access to food, no check-out time. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted, from my own kitchen.

Life is the glory of simple pleasures, the wonder of having a place to live, a place to be. This morning I am grateful for so much; for Katherine, for my home, for the amazing people around me who help me so much. This morning I woke up in my own bed, the best way to start my day.