My Room

I wake up feeling warm and relaxed. All is well in the first moments of the morning. I think I linger in bed and even work here because it’s such a safe, pleasant place for me. I love being wrapped up and cozy. I love the color of my room and the quilt on my bed. My room has the close, hobbity feeling I love in a space. My bed, like so many others, was a central hub of family life, as much a gathering place as the dining room table. I miss that and treasure the memories.

Anxiety about the coming day often keeps me in bed, and little but an obligation to another person will get me up. If there’s nothing that involves another person on my agenda, I can happily stay here all day to work and nap and cocoon. I revel in the privacy, especially in this age I’m in of sharing my house.

I’ve always loved to linger in that space just after waking and before starting the day. It’s not a particularly useful quirk of my personality, and I suspect by the time I’ve mastered it, I’ll be at an age when it will be acceptable for me to stay in bed all day.

Such is the way of the anxious introvert. With a beautiful quilt in a cozy room.