“When you find a safe place to unravel, when you feel the arms of eternity wrapping tight around you – you stay. You don’t run and hide, or turn and fight. You stay there.” –Elizabeth Maxon

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“You have to sleep!” I pleaded.
“I know, babe, I’m trying. I just can’t.”
“It’s been like four days. You’re gonna get sick.”
“I don’t feel good now.”
“Then you should at least talk about whatever’s on your mind.”
“It’s a lot.” He sounded exhausted just thinking about it.
“Well, I’m listening.”
“Sigh… I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“I’m really worried about you.”
“I know, sweetheart.… Can I come over?”
“. . . “
“Just for a little while. I just need to see you.”
“What about the rules?”
“I know your rules; I just really need to see you. I won’t stay long. I won’t even touch you.”
“… Okay, come on.”

                Twenty minutes later, he walked through my front door looking worn and drained, yet still so very attractive. Keeping his promise, he sunk softly into my love seat without our customary affectionate hello hug. I tried to spark conversation, but he was too tired to focus. Whatever weighed on him was far heavier than he could bear. I could see pain, frustration, and exhaustion in his eyes but didn’t know how to relieve him. He needed to sleep, that I knew.

“Why don’t you just go to sleep? I won’t bother you.”
“I can’t just come over your house and go to sleep!”
“Yes, you can! I want you to. It looks like you’re halfway there, anyway.”

He slouched in the corner of my loveseat, unable to untangle his mind enough to gain rest.

“Can you scratch this spot on my back?”
“Sure.”

He got up and came over to the couch where I was sitting.

“You don’t want your back scratched. You just wanted to be near me.”
“Is that so bad?”
“No. I guess it isn’t.”

With those words, he leaned against my breasts and, within seconds, fell asleep. The mental warfare of the past four days was no match against my compassionate bosom. After a good thirty minutes, I tried to wake him, but he was completely out. I got as comfortable as I could with a 185-pound man lying on me and let him sleep, which he did, for the next four hours.

The two of us had been through a lot together. Since adolescence, he’d worn manly stigmas and stereotypes like badges of honor. It took years of building trust to get him to slightly embrace the parts of himself that cried or needed to express hurt. But here he was, too exhausted and battered by life to win the war against bravado. He wrapped himself around me like a small child around their favorite stuffed animal. No walls, no fears, no façade, just him; as open and vulnerable as I had ever seen him.

One hour later, my back was beginning to ache, my leg had fallen asleep, and my thigh was stuck to the leather of the couch in a most uncomfortable way. I tried to shift, but every time he stirred, I’d give up. From the light of the television, I could see the hard-won peace on his face. That, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his deep breathing against me gave a maternal solace that overshadowed my physical pain. Joy swelled within me, knowing that, in my arms, he was safe – that I’m the one who makes him feel that way.

I became lost in the watching of him, becoming more and more endeared with each dreamy sigh or unconscious cuddle. I fixated on his cues, covering him when he shivered, soothing him with a gentle song when he seemed shaken from rest, and holding him tightly every time he gripped on to me. He’d always been dear to me, but at that moment, watching him drool on my stomach, I’d never loved him more.

After four hours, however, my bladder was not feeling the love, so I had to wake him.

We’ve had dozens of meals together, sat and talked for hours, watched sports, taken long drives, walks by the lake, and done many other fun things. However, that night was my favorite time with him. I felt as though I could have watched him sleep forever. Stripped of all expectations and fear, he was absolutely beautiful! Most importantly, I learned that being a safe place is almost as remarkable as having one. Who knew?