I Like To Make The Bed - (free verse musing)

I like to make the bed.

It's been a part of my character since I left my parent's home.

I did not like to make the bed when I was living in my parent's house.

I tended then to just fluff the pillows up, haphazardly, and then throw the covers over, willy-nilly.

I did not tuck corners, smooth out wrinkles, fold the top back just so, nor carefully arrange pillows.

I had more important things to do than make a bed which I would only mess up later.

Or so I always told my mother.

But the first place I went after leaving my parent's house was the military.

And they were all about tucking corners, smoothing out wrinkles, folding the top back just so, and carefully arranging the pillow.

They wanted to bounce coins on my finished product.

Eventually, they did.

A result of this was that I found a thing that made a sense of pride well within me.

For several years after leaving the military, I did not make the bed.

I let that pride slack, and reverted back to my teenage, civilian habits.

In my late twenties, at a point in my life where I sought to really work toward becoming a mature, responsible adult, I started to make myself make the bed.

Every day; regardless of my hurries.

I was glad I did.

It wasn't just pride that came from making myself make the bed.

I also found a feeling of control.

Control over myself, and over my life; garnered from taking the time (making the time) from my hectic and demanding day to day, for something that I had decided I would do.

It felt empowering.

Years later, years after my mother's passing, making the bed has become a pseudo-ritual of honor to her memory. While making the bed, it's as if I feel her presence in those moments, and I am affording her spirit a smile, of which I know I've sadly given her too few.

So, I like to make the bed.

I've taken no account of ribbing for liking to make the bed.

Some people see it as a classist presentation issue. Many folk prefer the un-made bed, as a sign that they are too busy to bother with such triffles; except when they are expecting special company.

Additionally, being a man who likes to make the bed seems to cast disparagements or questions toward that male's manhood. In certain demographical niches and geographical locations, only girly men, momma's boys and limp wristed Nancy girls care to make the bed.

Such thoughts are an irritation to me.

I think they are sexist.

Making the bed affords me time to think of my dearly departed mother, makes me feel productive and not a complete slob, and sets me with a powered-up attitude for the day.

I like to make the bed.


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26 December 2007

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Bill's Spirit is an Artist, Writer, Poet, Philosopher currently wordsmithing from a humble forge in small town Ohio.

The works of the man behind Bill's Spirit have been published in small alternative and amateur presses since 1986. Before that, they just filled notebooks, took up space on walls and gathered dust in piles and boxes.

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