image found here
I wish I had a photograph of my first bunk bed. There are so many parts of our childhoods that get photographed and video taped "so that we can remember..." but I will always remember certain events surrounding my bunk beds, photo or no photo.
My first bunk bed was built by my dad. It was made of sturdy wood and had the first half of the alphabet on it--only half because, well, that's just how many letters fit. :) It was painted white, with red, blue and green making the letter design. I slept on the top and the bottom, but mostly I remember the top because I am the oldest, and naturally the oldest gets the top bunk, right?
We upgraded to a store-bought, metal bunk bed. This was much more sophisticated for us older more sophisticated girls, and the bottom bunk was a queen-size mattress. Now who gets to sleep where? Well, we traded back and forth, and for good reason--a lot can happen when you are sleeping underneath someone else bed!
Like the night that my little sister threatened to drop a HUGE loogie on my face because I was pushing up on her mattress with my feet. Leaning over the edge of her more narrow twin size mattress down to my queen (on which I slept at the very edge, due to a paranoia that her mattress was going to fall on me), she had a clear shot. And she was a good shot! I wonder if my mom and dad remember that night... :)
Rewind to the alphabet-bed years when I remember standing on the top bunk in my "Princess Bride" dress, my friend Lauren beside me--the prince, both of us hollering down to our lowly subjects below (our younger siblings, of course). During those princess years I remember lining the edge of the bed beside my window with all my stuffed animals to hide me from anyone trying to look in my window while I slept. I remember waking up from a nap, staring at the striped sunlight coming in through the blinds onto the ceiling and tracing them with my foot--well, almost.
Fast forward again to the second bunk bed, still in my old room on the night before my wedding. I slept on the bottom bunk with my cousin Lindsay that night, two giddy and excited girls unable to sleep with anticipation. The next day I took a few minutes to sit on the edge of that bunk one last time, and write in my journal. What I wrote had nothing to do with that bunk bed, but the memory of that day seems somehow enhanced by the moments I spent reflecting there.