It all began with a few tentative messages on his computer. He started with sweet notes like, “I adore the way you smile,” or “I cherish spending time with you.” Eventually, he took the leap and simply typed, “I love you.” We would spend countless hours in our cramped dorm rooms, jamming to Dave Matthews and Pearl Jam while we “studied” on those notoriously uncomfortable twin beds. The only thing that mattered was figuring out which roommate was absent, because being together—crammed into that tiny space—was always worth it.
He graduated a year before me and moved into a dark walk-up apartment on Main Street in a small town, surrounded by similar row homes and a single dive bar with decent chicken wings. Fortunately, with both of us now out of the dorms, we upgraded to full-size beds. Unfortunately, the weekdays felt empty without him from Sunday to Thursday.
Each week was a countdown until we could fill the gap between us. Our weekends together felt like glimpses into our future. I attempted to be domestic by preparing real meals, hoping to impress him with dishes like baked chicken and Campbell’s soup recipes paired with Stove Top stuffing. It was a significant upgrade from takeout or canned beans. He kindly indulged my cooking experiments even though it took years for him to admit how much he disliked baked meat.
Saying goodbye on Sundays was always difficult. Insecurities crept in, and jealousy seeped through. Tearful goodbyes became common. Loving each other from a distance required trust, sacrifice, and compromise, a stark contrast to the effortless joy we felt when we were together in our tiny twin beds. Now, it was a conscious choice to cuddle or roll away in our full-size beds.
When Keith proposed to me on a North Carolina beach just before my graduation, there was no hesitation in my answer. I wanted to embrace our partnership and make decisions as “we.” We married in 1999, with him as a first-year podiatry student and me as a first-year teacher. Our college bed accompanied us for another four years until we purchased our first home near Atlanta, where he began his residency. It was then that we decided to invest in a queen-size bed. The extra space felt comforting, and it was nice to have room between us as a married couple.
Being “us” meant shared experiences and responsibilities. Over the next five years, we painted walls, decided on decorations, and set up a joint bank account, navigating our expenses together. We debated whether to use white or colored lights for the Christmas tree and alternated holidays with our families. This continued until we became a family of three. When I discovered I was pregnant, we would lay in bed, exploring the week-by-week developments of our growing baby. Those moments, with his hands resting on my belly, were my favorites throughout the nine months.
We tried to maintain the sanctity of our bed with a co-sleeper, but our son always screamed when placed flat. Sleep quickly became a higher priority, and I embraced the couch for months instead of our queen-size bed. After our second son was born, our old full-size bed was moved to the nursery, as Keith needed uninterrupted sleep for his work. I found myself bouncing between beds for years, especially since our youngest didn’t sleep more than five hours at a stretch until he was five. Most mornings, I woke up cramped, longing for the comfort of our old dorm days.
However, you never truly return to a twin-size bed. In fact, your sleeping space tends to expand. The physical distance between partners often mirrors the emotional distance created by children, shared obligations, and differing desires. After a decade of parenthood and over 20 years together, we finally upgraded to a king-size bed. The first night in it felt like one of our best decisions ever. I could stretch out, curl up, or sprawl without touching him, and I could invite the kids to join us during storms or lazy mornings.
After spending more than half my life with my husband, I realize that every day is a conscious choice to love each other. Being married offers no more security than a twin bed does comfort. Yet, I feel secure knowing that the best part of my day is when we roll toward the center of our king-size bed to share a morning and goodnight kiss.
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In summary, the journey from a twin bed to a king-size bed reflects the evolution of love and partnership through various life stages. Shared spaces, whether small or large, signify the emotional and physical growth of a relationship over time.