When I was little, I could fall asleep on the couch in my clothes, and wake up in bed in my pajamas, teddy bear in hand. — How did that happen, Dad? I have no idea!
Then of course, came the phase of pretending to be asleep so that someone would carry me from the couch or the car and into my own bed. — is she asleep? No, she can’t be, I can see her eyelids fluttering. She’s trying not to smile. Oh, well. I’ll take her anyway — And as time went on, that stopped.
I’m too big to be carried to bed now. I can’t fall asleep on my couch, because at some point I’ll have to wake up and carry myself to bed, and change my clothes myself.
But I can’t help but think, being driven back to my dorm late at night because I don’t have a car— or being tenderly handed a new pair of pajamas to wear, even if I’ll have to put them on myself—teddy bear still resolutely in hand—I always pull up here, to make sure you get into your building safe — I can’t help but think that I never stopped getting carried to bed. Not really.
December 17, 2023 — Written at 12:22 pm, after being lovingly ‘carried to bed’ by my mother.
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