The Land of Counterpane
When I was sick and lay a-bed, I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
-Robert Louis Stevenson, "The Land of Counterpane"
Did you have a favorite bedspread when you were a child? One that was particularly comforting when you were sick? Perhaps an old, worn quilt whose connecting lines of fabric became highways for the Hot Rod cars you drove over kneecaps, the corners of quilt squares your parking spaces, octagonal centers of quilted flowers gathering spots for your PlayMobil people, like a tiny commune of stiff-legged folk. A entire land the size of a twin-sized bed, with a blue corduroy pillowcase on your pillow. The pleasant land of counterpane.
Thanks to a reader named Alice who reminded me of Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem. Tess has joined me in the land of counterpane these past few days, with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. We have planted cities all about, we giants great and still, and dressed and undressed tiny chipmunk dolls with microscopic overalls and pretended to be small bunnies spending the summer in a remote village in Canada until we are ready to run screaming into the night.
Even so, the luxuriousness of days in bed–when you eliminate all the unfortunate sick parts that are too unpleasant to articulate–has been wonderful. Me and Tess reading and watching reruns of Lazy Town (I do love that show) and jumping on the bed at those moments when the fever breaks and laughing and sleeping hot sweaty naps together. And this evening as we clear the bunnies and chipmunks and cracker crumbs from the bed, we (that would be the Royal We) are hoping against hope that our visas out of the Land of Counterpane and into the Land of Adult People Sitting Upright in Real Clothing with Buttons will be approved and that tomorrow will be The Day when real shoes are necessary yet once more for the first time in a week.
And then, no doubt, we will spread that counterpane neatly over the bed tomorrow morning, pat it for good measure, and then miss it all day long.
