This morning I was half asleep as I staggered to the bathroom at a very unfortunate hour. Note to self: less water before bed. But that is beside the point. I was groggily making my way back to bed, and was confused. Why was it empty? I half pondered this as I fell back into bed and went back to sleep. Then as I was waking up to start my day, I rolled over.
And was sorely disappointed. No warm body on the other side waiting for permission to snuggle. Waiting for me to wrap him up in my arms. Nobody to keep my spot warm if I have to stagger off to the bathroom again. No one to to nuzzle and put where it’s most comfortable and snuggly for me. I was surprisingly shocked to be alone in the bed.
This was quite the odd experience for me. I usually prefer lots of room to sprawl in the bed. Other people frequently just get in the way of my comfort. I would prefer to sleep alone. It’s a testament to him that I missed him in the wee hours of my sleep-hazed morning. I desired his presence not only in my home, my space. But in my bed. Which is my sanctuary. Normally I dislike having anyone in my most personal space other than the Husband. Somehow the Wild Thing has managed to sidle past all my usual walls and solitary nature.