Bedsheets and bedrock
If you sleep in a bed big enough for two, the bedsheets are often too big for one person to manage easily.
The first lover I lived with and I used to have a ritual when we went to the laundromat together. We’d each grab two corners of the sheet, spread it out, and come together to fold it. It felt special.
Regrettably, that was about the only thing we could agree on.
The second lover I lived with, who I’ve now been married to for 35 years, also shares a bedsheet ritual with me. We always make time together to change the sheets on our king-size four-poster bed. It’s a cumbersome job to do alone, but together it feels like we’re investing a bit in something that we’ll both find comfort in all week.
It’s not just bedsheets.
People in a relationship invest in and build things.
Some of those things are clear and visible. We decorate apartments and houses and remodel our spaces. We build investment portfolios and plan vacations.
We have children and love them and raise them.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that you really learn who you are together when you build something together.
And every couple is also building things without even planning to. Those things are important.
The way you act when the other person is in pain.
How you make time for yourself and for yourselves.
The level of teasing that’s allowed, and the level that’s not.
How you fight. How you don’t. How you come to agreement. How you don’t.
When to talk and when to make space.
Everyday actions — the kiss on the head, the cup of tea, wiping down the countertops, backing the car in.
These are habits and rituals we build every day, a bit at at time, rarely thinking about it, until they are part of the fabric of “we.”
They can be as firm as bedrock or as tenuous as a sand dune. As comforting as a flannel bedsheet or as unsettling as an ice storm.
Next time you fold a bedsheet, give a thought to the bedrock you and your partner are building one day at a time.
And if it’s not to late, build better with love.
When I was young, I used to wonder why older couples still held hands. Now I know they were good architects. Happy Valentine’s Day a bit early to you and your wife.
This post resonates with me. My husband and I have been married for over 40 years, and what you say here is spot-on. It makes me think of the separation I have with one of my brothers, a byproduct, if you will, of pandemic politics. He and my husband are in opposite political camps and it came to a head at the celebration of life we held for my mother four+ years ago. When he told me that my husband was not welcome at his house, I pointed out to him that our marriage vow makes us one: Renouncing my husband also renounces me. I hope that this point has made him think. We remain civil, but we no longer share family time, which I miss greatly.
As you encourage here, cherish the time with loved ones. Be deliberate with your shared-lives architecture.