Even though we moved our bedroom downstairs after Sparkey left the hospital in March, we've taken to sleeping upstairs during these very hot days of summer since our only air conditioner lives in our bedroom on the second floor. Our central air died last summer, and though we miss that luxury, it seems more fitting to not have such ubiquitous climate control and be more in tune with the humid misery premeating our valley.
That said, sleeping upstairs has some benefits, even though Sparkey needs guidance making it up the steps (and sometimes catapults down the stairs, unable to check his speed or put on the brakes). The bed we're using up there is just a "Memory Foam" mattress on the floor with no box-spring, which has us really on the dogs' level while we sleep (although one of us often ends up on the adjacent futon most nights as well). Tina travels around the room during the night, her sleep disorder moving her from place to place. Sparkey, on the other hand, spends the majority of the night within arms' reach of the bed. Many mornings, all I need to do is reach my arms over my head and his bony frame is right there. Each time I awaken for the day, the room brightening with the light outside, I seek out a glimpse of Spark's ribcage and watch for signs of breathing. As I see his muscles contract and relax, the skinny ribs rising and falling, I realize we have another day together and I smile to myself. Today is another such day, and the boy's still here.