My New Bed

I think sooner or later every widow has to do something that changes the home they are living in from OUR home to MY home. I've made small changes already. I've cleaned out the closet and his dresser and re-purposed the space for my own needs. I was forced to make some major electronics purchases almost immediately after I placed my husband because I'd held off for so long that everything began to break down permanently. I was forced to replace the big TV set in the living room, for example, because the repair person told me to never turn it on again or I might burn down the house and he refused to even try to fix it. The computer I was using had both hard drive and motherboard problems and then got one Trojan Horse too many, and had to be replaced. The telephones, both land line and cell, just stopped working altogether.

But the bed was different. Changing the bed, buying one that was obviously just for me and not for us, that was different, and it took me most of a year to decide to do it.

The bed needed to be replaced. There was this depression where I slept. The mattress was memory foam, and it took most of the day for it to recover having been slept on. I finally gave in and replaced it. The room just looks different now.

For one thing the bed is much smaller, a double instead of a King. And the colors are different as well. And how I'm making it up is different too.

My room. Not our room.