Beds

Bedding from college selected with Gram

There is something so comforting for me about my bed, although now, it is really our bed, the one I share each night with Kevin. I think that part of my love for beds and all things soft comes from my mother who always travels with her own pillow. We took many long car trips when I was growing up and pillows packed in the backseat were as essential as tissues and the home-baked snacks my mom packed.

In college my friends loved my bed. It was always overflowing. My freshman year it was overflowing with my clothes. I shared 600 square-feet with two other people, I was 18 and had not yet developed my ability to keep a room clean. My roommate and dear friend Lizzy would say my bed threw up each night, as I pushed the pile of corduroy pants and warm sweaters to the floor. We did go to school in Maine and layers to keep you toasty were essential. By my senior year, we had graduated to an off-campus house with 13 bedrooms - one for each of us, so my overflowing bed was no longer a bother to anyone. My room was tiny but I painted it a soft blue. Eighty-percent of the space was occupied by my bed and an overflow of pillows. I still own the now well-worn bedding that I shopped for with my beloved Gram before starting my senior year of college. It is white with soft blue and yellow flowers. Layers of L.L. Bean blankets were piled under the duvet and I often came home from class to find my best girl friends piled in my bed watching DVDs trying to stay warm on cold Maine winter days.

For me, love has always been shared in bed. Growing up we were a cuddling family. I crawled into my parents bed on countless nights never to be pushed out or even put back in my own bed. My mother simply rolled over and told my dad to make room for "a kid" as she always said. Even when I went to spend the night at my grandparents house I vividly remember falling asleep to the soft light, tucked safely between my Gram and Grandpa. They would read as I feel asleep. My Gram usually in her peach cotton nightgown, grandpa in his tighty-whities and undershirt.

My sister Melissa getting a bath at Schuss by Gram. A 2 year old version of me is probably trying to help.

In medical school, after an especially bad week my mom sent me a quilt that had once kept me warm in my favorite bed on earth, a bed at Schuss, my family's vacation home in Northern Michigan. The quilt is now a prized offering to family visitors as all remember sleeping so comfortably beneath it at Schuss.

Schuss Quilt

I have never actually been a good sleeper. I was never one to take naps even as a child and am always up way too early now, but beds remain a place of solace and comfort for me. I love the current iteration of our bed. For most of my life I was not a bedmaker, my rational was that you were going to climb back into it. But somewhere along the way I learned to enjoy climbing into a freshly made bed especially if the sheets have been freshly washed. I try to make our bed most days. One thing I love is coming home on days when Kevin has been the last to get out of bed. He tries to remember to make up the bed because he knows I appreciate it. His idea of bed making is slightly different than mine. The edges of the bed are usually crooked and the comforter is usually touching the floor but he places the pillows on with care and as my mother would say "it warms my heart" to see his effort.

On days like today, when Kevin is working nights and we will not share even 5 minutes in bed at the same time, I find comfort in knowing that the same blankets that cover me will later keep him warm. He rests during the day and I know that when I get home from work the bed will be there made in his own loving way ready for me to sleep in while he works.

Our bed made with love by Kevin