Dearest Memory Foam Lover,
I know you don’t see much of me these days. I know you miss me and I hope you understand that I miss you, too.
I miss the nights we would spend cuddling for hours without interruption or words breaking the sweet silence. We would merely lie there together knowing in our hearts that nothing needed to be said because we both knew we were exactly where we wanted to be.
I miss the long mornings we would enjoy together in each others embrace. I would drift in and out of sunlit slumber until 9, 10, 11AM and you were always there—cradling me and comforting me. You never left my side.
I miss just relaxing with you during winter afternoons. I would read a book or play on my phone and you would just be there with me. It was enough for us to simply exist together.
I miss you. I miss us.
I know for the past couple of years I’ve been distant and as though I don’t love you anymore, and I want you to know that is certainly not the case. In fact, I’ve longed for you even more since… well… you know.
They don’t love you like I love you. They climb up on me and unceremoniously scoot under the comforter to make themselves at home. They don’t realize they’re intruding on our love affair. They spill their milk all over you without remorse. They desecrate you with drool and other bodily fluids. I wake up in the middle of the night, wanting to be with you and only you, but I find my toddler’s feet in my face instead.
And even on those days where they leave us alone at night, those hours we get together are so few and far between. They say they need to go potty, they need a drink of water, they just want to play. They drag me away from you whilst I kick and scream because it’s you I want. You and only you.
I’ve talked to other women who have these problems—older women—women with more maturity and wisdom. They tell me that someday you and I will once again be reunited, yes, but it will never be the same. They tell me that, though the opportunity to languish in your presence will be available, I will be much too busy to enjoy it. And then there’s “the change” which will cause me—your soul mate—to drench you in sweat from hot flashes or leave you much too often throughout the night to pee.
I hear their words, but I can’t accept them. It hurts too much; the idea that our days of easy breezy living are gone breaks my heart. Perhaps they are right, but I choose to live in denial and believe that one day our romance will bloom once again.
Please don’t abandon me, my memory foam lover. Someday soon I hope my kids will stay in their own beds. I hope they begin sleeping in to hours later than 6 a.m. so I can spend more time with you. I hope that when they move out and leave me with an empty nest that I will find solace in your sweet softness once more.
Please know it’s not you—it’s me—and someday, oh how I hope, someday we will be together once more.
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