I am most impressed with my wife when she is sleeping.
When insomnia strikes, “paying attention to it” is the worst course of remedy she tells me, but then again, how would she know? She’s never, as long as I have been sleeping with her, suffered the torture of a repeated self inflicted beating about the head with the rolled up and crinkled mantra “I’m not sleeping” while one is currently non asleep.
When she goes to sleep it’s like watching David write the lyrics to Hymn 23. She drifts away quickly, sometime too quickly. And if she wakes up to adjust a pillow or process the nights Chardonnay, she rarely remembers the interruption, and if she does, it doesn’t matter. That’s talent. And inner peace. I dig it.
When she wakes up in a little while, and sees that I am not crumpled in a heap next to her, she’ll know the Sandman missed me again.
And this too shall pass, my sleeplessness. Everything happens in seasons. But I thought it relevant to connect the dots between insomnia and our dating life. After all, “Tired” is in this blog’s title. And whichever label I give to the anxieties making my three AM mind serpentine like a teenage driver dodging squirrels in the road, this is the stuff of middle age marriage, so therefore, normal.
I have always hated the term “marriage bed.” It’s simultaneously corny and gross, evoking velvet rope or crime scene tape being draped around an event that may or may not have been well attended. Jerry and Elaine once had a negotiation on Jerry’s couch about “sleeping” having nothing to do with “sleeping together.” At which time they retreated to not “sleep” together. And in the end they were proven to be relational idiots.
So bang the drum for sleeping, literally, together. When one can’t, the other usually can, and that is perhaps the best definition of a partnership I can think of. And that ain’t nothin.