Sleeping Alone

For the last ten years Michael and I have shared a bed. And for ten years we have griped and complained and whined over each other's bad sleeping habits. I steal the covers, he tosses and turns (violently), I snore, he wheezes, I have violent nightmares where I lash out and beat him senseless because I think he's a giant granddaddy longlegs, he rubs his feet together like a cricket.... I could go on. But last night none of these things mattered because I slept alone. He slept on an airmattress in our livingroom and I slpet alone in our too small bed. It's funny how a full sized bed can seem small when two people are in it but downright enormous when you're alone. My bed is huge. I kept rolling over and my wall was gone, if I'd wanted to I could've rolled twice. Nothing, or rather no one was there to stop me. The covers were all mine, I didn't have to worry about making too much noise, I was alone.
This morning I got up to pee and I had to tiptoe past him on my way to the bathroom. He was sleeping peacefully, soundly, lightly snoring on the floor with our dogs curled around him. I guess sleep is yet another thing he doesn't need me for.