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She turned in her husband’s bed, and burrowed deeper into self looking for
that interrupted dream; a man with muscular arms and silver hair
had kissed her hard, on the mouth. “Adonis,” he said. So she reached for
him once more until a soft thud to the forehead, dimly felt, wrecked the
magic spell of hazy rendezvous.

She awoke in her husband's bed, startled by the guttural snore in her ear; a
bony knee beneath her thigh, his loose-curled fist lightly laid between her
eyes. He’d always been a traveler in the night; thrashing legs and arms, an
exciting journey when she was young but restful sleep now has the stronger
hold.

She reads in her husband’s bed these past years, before full dark descends,
where lying side-by-side with him, holding hands against worldly angst,
they sometimes sneak sweet caresses, the faded fondling of once fiery
lovers turned passionate friends bonded by children, pets, and decades.
With slow gentleness, she slides to mattress edge to check her limbs and
face for collateral damage done without intent.

She sits on the edge of her husband’s bed and finding floorboards with
bare, stiff toes she’s at the bedroom door in three swift steps and turns to
blow a kiss before she steals across the hall to that other room, a wisdom
once dismissed for generations other than her own, abandoning rumpled
covers and salty manhood smells to slip into her smooth refined
woman-bed.

She leaves her husband’s bed, gone to beckoning stillness, its cool, serene
embrace found in sheet and pillow, nothing more; no nasal symphony or
dodging wild-flung anatomy. Here is peace, preamble to drowsy memories,
those glimpses of an earlier them asleep, entwined, before nocturnal
farewells began.

Adonis stays in her husband’s bed, stretching out to softly soothe the
restless man that still remains. “She’s gone,” the young god whispers with
knowing smile and half-lidded eyes, seduction oozing from every pore. “I
know,” he mumbles back, rolling to his least-pained side. Wise woman, he
muses in his dream, and reaches for the waiting deity, transformed from
sinewy lover into downy pillow.



Jan is a freelance writer living in Newark, New York. Her fiction has appeared in various print and online publications including Eclectic Flash, Every Day Fiction, The Battered Suitcase and more. She is a regular contributor to Life in the Finger Lakes Magazine and a member of the Internet Writers Workshop.



I am a member of the Internet Writing Workshop. Her Husband's Bed was inspired by a writing prompt posted on that site the morning after my dear spouse of thirty years conked me on the forehead in his sleep--at least he claimed that defense. His parents had separate bedrooms and a strong marriage; a strange paradox, I thought, when I was young.  Now I understand the wisdom. Forgiveness and humor, the most vital ingredients for a long, contented relationship, all improve with a good night's sleep.





 





  


Copyright 2009