Comforters

Comforters.  Those warm, heavy, soft, snuggly things you pile up on the bed when the weather-storms and emotive-storms are raging... they comfort.  Weigh you down, keep you low to the Earth; redistribute all that weight resting so heavily on your shoulders.  I am a collector of comforters- down ones, wool ones, quilted ones, four-legged furry ones that know in the depths of heartache it is simply best to just lay on top of their person.  

Last night there simply wasn't enough comfort- the need for more blanket, puppy smothering safety was unbearable and was left unsatiated, though somehow I did drift to sleep.  Two months ago my bed was not big enough- wars were waged and many a battle lost in the fight for outstretched limbs and sole pillow propriety.  The past week there has been far too much space.  Emptiness.  Isn't that what I asked for?  Isn't that what I prayed for all these months?  A sense of spaciousness?  To delve into the abyss of nothingness?  To embrace the void?  Here it is.  I am face to face with it- the Void has become my bed-partner, consuming the space my husband once filled.  

I think, perhaps, I'd forgotten just how empty Space really is.  How hard it is to fill it with knick knacks and bric-a-brac.  How kitsch just doesn't cut it.  Realizing two had somehow become one, and now are dividing and slipping back into twoness.  How that twoness has allotted me the *space* to truly be a ONE.  To be whole and complete in and of myself- independent.  Unincorporated.  Sole proprietress of my life.  

That spaciousness truly is beautiful and quiet- oh so quiet!  I've yet to turn the TV on, though mild inquisitiveness prompts me to check if it still works.... hmm.  I get to be me, with myself, in all my entirety and no one can stop me.  It truly is beautiful.  But sometimes I just want those comforters- sometimes I just want to pile them on, all those layers of steady, heavy love, and be lulled to sleep by their constant, weighty warmth.