The Taco Bed

When we first got married and would visit my family at my childhood home, Mark and I slept in my sister’s old room because my mom had converted my old bedroom into a sewing room. At night, we cozied up in a full size bed, known affectionately by anyone who had the misfortune of sleeping in it as, the “taco bed.” Well, actually maybe not so affectionately. Mark coined this nickname for the old worn-out mattress due to its tendency to fold up around you as you slept, especially if there was more than one person sleeping in it. Every time we went to my mom’s house, Mark would complain that he never got a good night’s sleep due to the torture of sleeping in the dreaded taco bed… and without exception, Mark would wake up and vow to never sleep in that bed again. Yet, each time we’d visit, that is where we’d lay our heads at night…and on every single instance, just after we’d turn out the lights, Mark would lean over, give me a kiss and say, “G’night. Love you. Meet you in the middle in the morning?”

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