Roger slept on the left.
I slept on the right.
Usually I had a foot hanging off or gliding on the edge.
I would agrue that Roger actually slept middle-ish left.
Roger would agrue he was always on his side of the bed.
We would argue about who had more room.
Now I have the entire bed.
I have the most room.
Not exactly the price I wanted to pay for it.
Now I sleep a little diagonal.
But not on the right.
I can't bring myself to sleep back on the right.
The night of the accident, Holly and Scott came home with me.
Holly slept in the bed with me because I did not want to sleep alone.
She slept on Roger's side of the bed and I slept on mine.
She continued to sleep there for the next few nights.
Then Cecilia came.
Cecilia slept in bed with me as well.
She also slept on Roger's side of the bed.
After they went back to their lives, I crawled over to Roger's side.
I wanted to be closer to him.
To be where his last night at home was.
To maybe be near where some of his germs are.
[I swear I was my sheets, I just have read a lot about how germs and skin get into the mattress.]
After a while, I remembered, Roger slept middle-ish left.
And more middle if I was making the judgement.
So I moved to the middle.
I sleep in the middle most nights.
With my feet on the left side and most of my body in the middle.
I tried to go back to sleeping on the right.
But I can't. Just can't.
It feels to far away from "him."
It feels safe to be middle-left.
So much for even wear.
And because I can't get rid of his zillion pillows even though I only sleep with one, there is a pile on the left and a pile on the right.
And when I get up in the morning, even though my phone is usually on my old side of the bed and I need to disconnect it, I get up on Roger's side of the bed and walk around.
My old side just feels wrong.
I just can not imagine sleeping there.
I just can not imagine getting up from there.
It is the wrong side of the bed.