The Domestic Files: Changing the Bedding

I did not change my bedding when I was a kid.  My older sisters changed my bedding for me.  This occurred on a quarterly basis and occurred only when my mother forced one of my sisters enter my room and do so.   My sisters did not like my room.  I kept old bird’s nests and animal bones and rocks and bottles and just about anything you can imagine in my room.  I wanted my room more like the outside world.  Only a few weeks ago, my sister, Debbie, reminded me of how much she hated going near my bed.  “Your bed was full of sand,” she said.  “It was gross!”

Honestly, I think the girls got off pretty easy.  I would have slept with my full rock collection had not the iron pyrite and ore specimens scratched me to pieces when I tried.

I have a far more frequent schedule for changing bedding these days.  I have Uyen Hegman, my sweet and long departed wife to thank for that.  For the first thirteen years we were together, she took on the task all by herself.  For the final fifteen years we were together—due to the lasting disabilities caused by her transverse myelitis—she often asked me to help her change the bedding.  Naturally, some of our housecats also “helped” us when we spread-out the new bedsheets.  Our first cat, Denver, especially like to shark around under freshly spread sheets.  Uyen and I enjoyed poking at Denver as he swam under the fresh bedding.  Sometimes, we would finish making the bed, leaving Denver as a purring lump under the freshly spread linens and comforter.

Mostly, though, I did not enjoy changing the bedding.   On many occasions I complained when Uyen asked me to help her put the bed together.  “It will only take a minute,” she would gently say.  “It’s too hard for me to do it myself.”

The first few times I changed the bedding after Uyen’s passing, I had total breakdowns.  I wept into my hands as I held them to my face.  I felt the most intense sorrow.   I felt like such an ass for every time I complained about helping her with that chore.  I would have given anything to have just one more chance to make the bed with Uyen.

Today, I am happy to change the bedding.  I fling the sheets with abandon.  I wrestle with the pillows.  I stroke the comforter into place.   I feel so lucky to be here making the bed.

--Mitchell Hegman