This bed means business. And this bed has legs. It's been moved from Kentucky to Mississippi to Georgia and back to Kentucky again. We sit on the majestic old bed, my niece and I, our heads nearly bumping the ceiling. Chelsey chose the basement cubbyhole for a bedroom at her new house in the Kentucky countryside.
Privacy is premium.
The room is small, all right, but large enough to hold her Breyer horse collection, a computer, a bulletin board, a chest of drawers and, of course, the great and ornate bed. It just fits and, in the modest room, looks like a diamond tiara on the Little Match Girl. It had to fit. This bed floats like a life raft through our lives, and we always swap our secrets and fears on top of it. And my newest fear is that Chelsey no longer needs our amazing friendship.