Patricia

Back in high school, I used to dream of finding a wife. I wanted that sappy, adoring kind of love, where you couldn’t get enough of each other. A love where you stole secret, or not so secret, kisses, held hands, cuddled, and took every opportunity to make “contact” when they walked by. A love where she lit up my life just by being in the room. Someone I wanted to be with, do things with, and couldn’t wait to see again. And every night I fell asleep wondering what it would be like to hold her in my arms. To feel her warm body pressed against mine, fitting perfectly with mine like a jigsaw puzzle.

So one day, I asked my stepmother to buy me a pillow that I could hold in my arms at night. I wanted to get used to sharing my space and cuddling with another “body,” so that when my wife came along, I’d be practiced. I didn’t want a standard sized pillow, because that wouldn’t give the feel of a human being, so I asked her for a bigger pillow.

In my mind, I imagined bigger meaning longer. But she interpreted that to mean literally bigger, and she brought home a square pillow that was two and a half feet by two and a half feet. It was black with red and pink tropical flowers on it, like it had a very Hawaiian shirt feel to it. The pillow, that I named Patricia for some reason, was massive. She took up most of my twin-sized bed, leaving very room for me in it. I guess it was a good thing that I was so skinny in high school, or I might have ended up on the floor while Patricia took the bed!

It took some getting used to, having Patricia in the bed with me. The first couple of nights, she actually ended up on the floor. I’d find her in the morning in a crumpled mess next to the bed. Then, it was hard because I had to sleep in the same position all night to hold onto her. After that, I started flipping from side to side and taking her with me, but I justified this by believing that in my future life, my wife wouldn’t ideally fall off the bed because I wasn’t holding her. And if I needed to roll over, then she could too, and we could switch roles.

So, I fell into a happy rhythm with my gigantic pillow. And when I went off to college, Patricia went with me. And when Patricia finally wore out, I got a new pillow, Patricia 2.0. She even became a running joke with my college roommates, but I didn’t care, because deep down I knew I was practicing for greater things.

I did eventually get married, but it didn’t quite turn out the way I imagined so long ago back in high school. I don’t snuggle up to my wife every night, and she doesn’t snuggle up to me. Mostly we keep to our own respective sides of the bed. I found that having someone’s head laying on your arm for extended periods of time will actually make it fall asleep. I didn’t have this issue with Patricia because she weighed virtually nothing. So, in the end it wasn’t practical.

I actually still sleep clutching a pillow, unable to stop after so many years of training. I do this even when I travel. My arms feel empty otherwise, and I can’t sleep. But due to the awkwardness of having to ask my wife to give my gigantic pillow some space, I have had to downgrade to a much smaller model. The current version has been with me for so long that she’s been molded into a more body-like shape. Patricia has become like Linus’ blanket for me, a source of comfort and peace so that I can relax. Not what I intended so many years ago, but life rarely goes as planned.