Sleeping Alone in Phoenix, PV, and Parker

Katherine today


A while back the "Dear Amy" advice column in The Denver Post followed letter writers debating the merits of couples sleeping in separate quarters. A few promoted their separate but equal bedrooms and others even championed separate homes. There was also an interview with Sophia Loren I breezed through at the dentist's office where she said she believed her marriage to Carlo Ponti survived because they had separate bedroom suites on opposite sides of their villa. Somewhere in there I watched Frida again and there was the bright blue home of Frida and Diego with it's bridge of love between their two separate dwellings marginally held together by the tiny path from one side of their home to the other. It was kind of a perfect storm of messages all telling me that togetherness and love endured because of separate sleeping quarters.

I didn't think too much about it at the time. Sleeping is a tricky subject. The only times I've slept deeply and hard without waking and playing my own version of The Princess and the Pea was when I had cancer and now a good night's sleep can scare me. Jim rarely sleeps because his mind rarely stops. Somehow, however, we've managed to keep our life together despite our sleep challenges and we've done it in the same bed, in the same room, and in the same house.

All of this background noise about sleeping came into focus in December when I went to Phoenix without Jim. It expanded when we both went to Mexico with Bud and Janet and spent two weeks in twin beds. Then there was time spent at Chris and Christine's house staying with our grandkids and learning to navigate their gigantic bed and Sammi's need to climb into bed with us at 3:00 in the morning. I've learned a lot about sleeping alone in the last several months.

Phoenix in December had been a really good idea in May of last year. Janet called with news of a really reasonable timeshare at the same time the Broncos were playing a game down there. With the immigration laws down there, Frontier was giving away flights and we had frequent flyer miles to burn. Warm weather and a Bronco game sounded like a good time.

When it was time to go, everything fell apart. Jim was incredibly sick, but hadn't seen a doctor. I misread the flight schedule and we missed the plane in the morning. Jim was so sick he couldn't even think about trying to go back to the airport and I was pissed he hadn't called the doctor and seen to his illness sooner. I went back to the airport alone and flew to Phoenix without Jim. I rented a car alone. I drove to the timeshare alone in the dark with the trusty GPS thing as my chatty companion.

Bud and Janet gathered me in at the timeshare, shocked that I'd actually come alone. We had cold pizza and we drank and I vented. Then we went to bed. I went to bed alone for the first time in about 20 years. It was awful. I don't care what all those "Dear Amy" writers said, I don't care what Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti and Frida and Diego thought--sleeping alone sucks.

Each of my 6 nights there I took an ineffective over-the-counter sleeping pill. I'd pick up a book and read. I'd turn out the light and after a lot of Princess and the Pea action, I'd get up at 5:00 in the morning and read or take care of work emails. I'd thought I might actually use some of the bed-space the solitude provided me, but each morning I'd only messed up my side of the bed. On the other side of the bed, the comforter and fancy pillows hadn't moved a bit even though I'd been moving constantly it seemed. I hadn't realized how much Jim I grazed each other during the night. I hadn't realized how empty a bed feels when he isn't there.

I had a good time in Phoenix. It was warm and gorgeous and my separation from Jim and the stupid Broncos were the only drawbacks of the trip. The Broncos sucked and I hate the Cardinals stadium because they won't open the roof on a gorgeous day to keep the obnoxious sound loud and I don't care what anybody down there says, the stadium does not look like a barrel cactus. Besides the crappy game, we took a lovely hike in the hills outside of Phoenix, shopped at some gigantic mall where we kept running into former students, and I spent a delicious day alone at the Camelback Inn's amazing spa getting scrubbed and tanned. I also learned how much fun texting can be since Jim and I did a lot of that while I was there. I had one texting setback. I was beginning to feel a bit like a high school girl with a major crush and sent a sweetish romantic text meant for Jim to Chris. I'm sure Chris was filled with some Barney Fife feeling that I hope has passed by now.

Puerto Vallarta with Bud and Janet was the second time we slept alone in recent history. The second bedroom of Bud and Janet's timeshare had twin beds this time. Normally we'd just shove them together and that would be that. Not this time. The beds were mounted on two foot high concrete platforms. Though we gave it a whirl for about ten minutes, we are both too big to stay long in a little twin bed. We've always thought tropical climates were lovely and romantic. Tile floors and single beds were kind of romantically challenging, but that's all I want to say about that.

Sleeping in PV, though challenging, wasn't as bad as it was in Phoenix. At least I could hear Jim through the night and we could cuddle up for short times at night and in the morning. Still not good though.

I learned a lot in PV besides recognizing my increasing desire to always be in the same big bed with Jim. I learned that reading lots of short books feels better than reading one gigantic book as I did this time. I learned that when we walk the beach and Jim says, "Follow me," that I should follow him EXACTLY or I'm apt to take a big plunge in the ocean. I learned that the Rhythms of the NIght Beach experience beats the hell out of the Pirate Ship extravaganza from a year ago. I learned that Sayulito is a wonderful little town up north from PV. I've learned that people in PV think that if a bird shits on you it's good luck although my experience recently makes me think they are wrong about this. I've learned that no matter what the rules say, people who look like me can have their knitting needles taken away by cranky Mexican authorities while a woman who looks more grandmotherly than I do can carry over 20 needles onto a plane without a problem (she sat next to me on the plane back to Denver knitting away while I fumed about the injustice of it all and my two lost knitting needles). I learned the art and the Artwalk on Wednesday nights in PV are truly wonderful.

The last sleeping episode is a yearly thing, but it took on new weight this year because of the timing. Each year we take care of Chris's kids while he and Christine go on vacation for a bit. They live in Parker and we move into their house and sleep in their bed. It's a huge bed. I think it's a king that they've set up sideways. It's too short--even for me, but the width is beyond belief. You might as well be in separate beds because it's so hard to find each other in it. Also, Sammi likes to climb into bed with her mom and dad (or with us if we're there) in the middle of the night. She kicks and moves constantly. She comes to my side and I plant her in the middle so she won't fall off and so the kicks can be shared between Jim and I. Again--it's a lot like sleeping without Jim.

Our time in Parker taught me that Sammi is sneaky and she loves the chocolate chip pancakes at Snooze and that Brooklyn can sleep better than anyone. B. can be in the middle of her favorite princess movie and simply look up and say, "Night, night--now!" and that's it. You carry her upstairs to her bed and she literally dives in and goes instantly to sleep. Ahhhhh. She also said, "Granny, you aren't old--just beautiful." What a kid.

I'm about done. I find myself treasuring every moment in bed with Jim these days. If his leg drapes over mine in the middle of the night I shiver with delight. My head nestling on his chest when we drift off to sleep embodies joy. For what it's worth, if the "Dear Amy" writers start up again or if any famous person champions the virtues of separate beds, rooms or villas--well, I plan to ignore them in the future. Right now nothing is more wonderful than just getting in the same bed as Jim does every night.