A Spider in the Bed

It was late the other night when a knock came upon my door. "Yes," I called out. The knob turned and  the words came tumbling out, ending with "can I sleep with you?" This is my baby girl. Except, she's really not a baby anymore. She hasn't slept in my bed for almost a year. When she was little, there was hardly a night she didn't find a way or a reason to crawl in next to me. Those days are long gone.

I miss them. I miss those little moments we shared, even the annoying ones like the way I would have to promise her over and over again that I would fall asleep after her. She was so afraid of the dark and of things that go bump in the night. 

Last night she appeared in my room, again, telling me that she hadn't changed her sheets so the spider might still be in her bed. She begged me to share one of my pillows with her. Mine are so fluffy and comfy, she said. Hers are as flat as a door mat. I laughed at her description. We kiddingly argued back and forth for a while as we discussed the condition of her pillows and the qualities of mine. Before I drifted off to sleep, she made me promise to buy her some new pillows.

Our banter brought back such sweet memories of days gone by.

I think I'll pull another spider in her bed tonight.