Dear Cozy Haven,
I realize that we’ve grown apart in recent times, and I want you to know that you are dearly missed. My heart aches for the nights we spent wrapped up in each other’s warmth, savoring the quiet moments without the need for spoken words. We simply existed together, content in our shared space.
I long for those languid mornings, where I would drift in and out of dreams beneath your embrace, sometimes not waking until well past 10 AM. You were always there, providing a comforting presence that made it all feel right.
I remember those peaceful winter afternoons, lost in a book or scrolling through my phone, while you cradled me in your familiar softness. Just being together was enough; it was a cherished routine.
But, alas, in recent years, I’ve become distant, and I know it may seem like my love for you has waned. It’s quite the opposite. My longing for you has only intensified, particularly since the arrival of the little ones.
You see, they don’t appreciate you like I do. They clamber onto you, making themselves comfortable under the covers, oblivious to the sacred bond we share. They spill drinks and leave stains, and I often wake up with a toddler’s foot in my face, longing for your gentle embrace instead.
Even on those rare nights when I think we’ll have time to ourselves, interruptions come — potty breaks, thirst, or just a desire to play. They pull me away from you, and I find myself yearning for our lost moments together.
I’ve spoken with wiser mothers who’ve walked this path before me. They’ve warned that while we may reunite in the future, it won’t be the same. They mention the inevitable “change,” which might have me waking up drenched in sweat or rushing to the bathroom far too often.
I hear their words, but I refuse to accept this fate. The thought of our carefree days being behind us is too painful to bear. Perhaps their insights hold truth, yet I cling to the hope that our romance will flourish once more.
So please, don’t forsake me, my beloved memory foam. I dream of the day when the kids will sleep soundly in their own beds and allow us to reclaim our time together. I long for them to sleep in past dawn, giving us the hours we once enjoyed. I envision the day when my nest is empty, and I can finally sink back into your comforting embrace.
Just remember, it’s not you — it’s me. I eagerly await the day when we can be reunited in bliss.
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In summary, my cherished bed and I are in a complicated relationship, but I hold onto the hope that one day we will be reunited. Until then, I will navigate the chaos of parenting, dreaming of our future together.