As a child, all you can really do is dream. You dream of touching the stars, digging to China, and finding the cure to cancer. As a young child, you’re allowed to do a lot more than you are when you grow up. You can play in the rain naked without being arrested for Public Nudity. You can doodle in class and get an A+ instead of an F. If you show up late because you slept too late, it’s ok, the playdate will just go a little later than usual. But now we’re grown up. I can’t show up late to my appointments, doodle on my paperwork, and for the sake of those around me-I promise to keep my clothes on in public. Things stop being cute and innocent, and they become serious. The only things we have to hold on to from our childhood are our dreams.
Dreams begin when you close your eyes, and let your mind wander. Your bed welcomes you into a comforting state of sleep where you lay peacefully. Your dreams grow wilder and wilder as the days go on. They transform from rainbows and unicorns to events you wish could happen, or to that perfect someone you just can’t get off your mind. Your dreams even begin to turn on you and stress you out-because even your dreams grow up. You wake up in the morning and ponder about the crazy happenings of your mind. You start the day right where you ended it-in your bed.
Your bed is the treasure chest of your deepest secrets. It is the safe haven that will welcome you home every night, and wait patiently for you to return later that evening. It holds every wish you’ve made on a star, every tear you’ve shed before falling asleep, and every dream that you’ve dared to dream.
So, why would I ever let you intrude on this? Why should I welcome you into the most vulnerable place of my home, of my heart? This bed wasn’t meant for you to sleep in, these sheets haven’t blanketed your body before. In fact, my mind hasn’t welcomed you into the deepest pits of its thoughts. My heart has not given you the key to my treasure chest where my childhood runs ramped with unicorns and rainbows, all of which is stored safely in the comforts of my bed.
Maybe I’m old-fashioned when it comes to my strong belief in waiting till marriage, but look at my small, twin-sized bed. For now, I am too young to share this bed with you. It was designed to protect me, and only me. When I’m older and I have met someone who understands this, he will wrap me in white and gold. My father will pass me off into his hands, and he will carry me over the threshold of my new home. He will lay me down into a new bed, one meant to cherish the responsibility of two hearts’ dreams. And in this bed, new dreams will form and new treasures will be stored. This bed will be grown up, more mature than my twin-sized bed. It will be able to welcome both of us home, and it will be able to warm both of us effortlessly on even the coldest of nights. This bed will protect both of us, while my twin-sized bed will move on to another little girl whose dreams still chase after the stars, dig to China, and find the cure to cancer.