Not a wrinkle in sight

Every morning until the last few months of her life (when she never left it any more), my grandma made her bed as soon as she had showered. Military corners on the sheets, perfectly straightened bedspread, pillows perfectly fluffed. It was her thing, one of many things that I as a child, thought made her a little weird. I mean really, who makes their bed if company isn't coming over? Certainly not me.

She had this deal, where you don't mess up a bed that has been made. You don't put anything on it, you don't mess with it and you definitely don't sit or lounge on it. That is what couches were made for, she told me once. I think I was about seven years old the first time I remember being told this.

I'll let you process that for a second. She told a seven year old child that beds were not for lounging or touching. They must not be messed up all day long.

In my house, our beds were the exact opposite. I was, at the time, being raised by a single mother. A mother whose bed was the fold out couch in our living room. We lived in a one bedroom apartment, where my brothers were sharing a full size bed and I had a twin bed. Both beds barely fit in the one room. So basically, our whole bedroom was one big bed. All we did was play on it and under it. We ate breakfast every day while laying in my mom's bed and watching cartoons. Some days, she never even made it back into a couch. We just all laid around on her bed. We liked it this way.

But back to my grandma. I remember looking at her like she was from outer space. There was no way that she was serious. Oh but she was.

I did what any seven year old child would do. I waited until she was out of the room for awhile and I sat my little seven year old butt on her bed. Then I snuck off, laughing too myself. A few hours later I remembered what I had done and went to go see. The bed was perfectly made, not a crease could be seen. This time I jumped into the middle, rolled around and then ran off, giggling too myself. When I went back later, it looked like I had never touched a thing. Not a wrinkle in sight. Well I wasn't a dumb kid and you didn't really cross my grandparents, so I decided I'd had enough fun for the day. I'd gotten away with it and that was enough. We left the next day and before we did I couldn't resist going in there and rolling around on her bed one more time. This time I left a note. Bye grandma, I had fun. Love, me.

Every time we went to visit, I did this. Generally only once and not usually on the first day, but every single time. Probably until I had kids myself. Maybe even once or twice after that as well. Although by then, we generally stayed in a hotel when we came to visit. She never said a word. I thought she'd go to her grave not saying a thing. But last year, when we were there for Thanksgiving, she called too me as I got up and went to the bathroom. Melissa Annie, she said too me, if you sit on my bed, you will have to remake it. I am too old to make it more than once a day. Grandma, I said as I came over and kissed her cheek, I am too old to mess up your bed on purpose, I promise. Everyone in the room thought we were insane, so she told them the story. I was shocked, but she'd never even told my grandpa. She just thought it was our little inside joke.

I will say, I don't make my bed unless someone is coming over and even then, I'm likely to just shut the door. When I do though, I don't like it too be sat on all day. Of course, when you only actually make your bed once a month, it's much easier to keep people off of it.