A Love Letter to My Bed
All summer I’m restless, looking for excuses to leave the house long into the evening. Then October comes, the sky seems to sink below the tree line, and my desire to be anywhere other than under a duvet disappears. By November, daylight ends before the workday and night falls like a weighted blanket.
I wake up weary, half suspended in syrupy sleep, slouching towards bedtime as December drags into January then February, and still, the morning comes too soon, too dark. I long for the sun on the back of my neck and the desire to go. But, for now, I crave only darkness, hot water bottles, the heavy comfort of the duvet, and going back to bed.