Whatever Gets You Through the Night

Sleeping late.

Since the beginning of recorded time, or at least 1986 when I married Mitch, man has traveled to support his family. In my husband's case, he's gone pretty much every week, sometimes for a day or two, sometimes for three or four, leaving me home alone, bereft and unprotected. Back when we lived in a crime-ridden urban environment, his absence cost me sleep, seeing as how I had to sit up all night with a baseball bat to protect my young from all the drug-crazed home invaders. But now that we live in Maine, and it's just me, and there are no nighttime invaders, I actually can fall asleep. Still, it gets lonely.

I am not a teddy bear person. Yes, they are cute, but it's just not my thing. So it was surprising when I fell for one several years ago. He was on display in the hunting department at L. L. Bean. I'm certain he called out to me, and despite my protests, weak ones I'm guessing, Mitch bought him.

At first I sort of tolerated the bear. Not wanting Mitch to feel slighted, I stuck him on a rocker in the corner of our  bedroom where he pretty much lives to this day. But over the past few years he has taken on a more important role. When Mitch is out of town, he sleeps with me, in the marital bed. Then when morning comes, it's back to the rocker. (Today, since it's snowing, he's sleeping in.)

Second-class citizen.

In the tradition of our family, the bear has no name. I think it's better that way; after all, we don't want to get too attached. (When my son was little, all his little bears were nameless, known simply as "blue bear" or "green bear," etc.) Truth be told, there's another teddy bear of undetermined ancestry in the house. This one lives on the top shelf of the guest room closet, but sometimes I bring him out to "cute things up" when we have an appropriate visitor who goes for that sort of thing. Believe me, those folks are out there.