She Said–My Hershey Brown Couch

Sometimes, when my Hunni is home, I spend the night on the couch.

This is not because I do not love my Hunni.

This is not because my Hunni does not love me.

This is NOT because my Hunni and I had an argument, but. . .

It is very much because the couch does not twitch, snore, throw its arm around me, or ask me a question like, “Did you remember to turn off the oven?” right when that heavy, luxurious, mid-night blue, velvet curtain of Sleep and Rest is beginning to gently close at the back of my eyes.  After a question like, “Are you sure you gave me all the documents I needed for the taxes?” or “Do you think the kids are safe sleeping with their windows open?” or “Are you sure that you turned the oven off?”, that heavy, mid-night blue curtain is ripped away, and the scene that unfolds is always the climax of a Tragedy.  I watch for 15 minutes as the house burns down, my children are kidnapped, and the IRS comes and takes us away.  Then reality sets in, and I spend the next 10 minutes mad at the Hunni for taking me to see this Tragedy play (I am more of a Comedy lover.)  And then I spend the next 22 minutes making sure in my mind that I indeed did give Hunni all the tax documents, that the kids are “nestled all snug in their beds”, and that I distinctly remember turning off the oven.  And then I realize that I kind of have to pee, and I spend 7 minutes trying to decided if I can “hold it” until tomorrow morning, and then although I am sure that the oven is off, and the kids are safe, and that the sound I heard was not the IRS knocking on our door, I decide that I might as well go check on the kids, re-assure myself that the oven is turned off, and lock the door against the knocking IRS.  So I spend the next 12 minutes getting up the energy to go back downstairs.   As you can add, you will reach the sum and conclusion that the last 66 minutes were spent as an adrenaline rush instead of that sedative of sleep.

Then the affectionate arms flops over.  The problem is that I have just rescued my children from a burning building, fought off the kidnapping IRS, and all my senses are on “high alert”  not “love and cuddle.”

So instead of snorting and twitching myself, I head downstairs, check the oven and the kids, and hit the bathroom.  Then I curl up on my Hershey-Brown leather couch,  knowing that it will not twitch, or snore, or throw its arm around me.  And as I close my eyes, those heavy velvet, mid-night blue curtains of Sleep and Rest begin to gently fall.  And as they are  falling I am transported to a scene of lightness and rest.  A scene of softness and complete relaxing.  And I look forward to the play that will shortly follow.  And then my Hershey-Brown Couch speaks to me, and it says, “snuggle closer into my chocolate arms”

And with that . . .

I slip off. . .

into. . .

a Dreamland of Chocolate Fountains, “children nestled in their beds with visions of sugar plums, and that Big Rock Candy Mountain.”

ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz.

Sweet dreams ya’ll,

-rebecca

P.S.  The husband of a friend in town tells his wife, “Be quiet and go to sleep.  I can hear you thinking!!!”

P. P. S. And if you are still here, it means that you aren’t sleepy.  Here is a “sleepy time” poem that I like to recite to the kiddos.  Since Hunni is a pilot, we change some of the words.  We substitute “Over the rolling [heavens] go,” and “Silver [wings] all out of the west.”   The link below contains this poem and other great poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Poetry for Young People: Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sweet and Low

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the Western sea.

Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the Western sea.

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon;

Sleep my little one, sleep my pretty one, sleep.

by Alfred,  Lord Tennyson

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2 Responses to She Said–My Hershey Brown Couch

  1. Brooke says:

    I’m sure your manly boy will not like to hear how beautiful and angelic he looks in sleep–but it’s true! Nothing more beautiful than your own sleeping child, eh? Even when you DON’T want to be awake checking on them : )

    Like

  2. Bel McCoy says:

    Yes, I understand completely!!!!

    Thanks for the really beautiful calendar…. can almost feel the pictures!

    Like

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