Squeaky Bed Memories

I have a friend who has a beautiful and immaculate home. I visit as often as I can, not because of the home, but because of the company. Every time I visit though, there is one concern he mentions--the bed in the downstairs guestroom squeaks. He wonders, was it put together incorrectly, or if there is another reason for the high pitched metallic groans it emits every time a guest shifts position on the mattress. Does the noise bother me, he asks. Does it keep me awake? To which I answer, no, of course not. But I never continue on to tell him that I actually enjoy the squeaks. They bring back fond memories. Memories of holidays spent in the dormitory in my paternal grandparents basement, where all four beds squeaked. Their familiar sounds lulling my brothers and sisters and I into peaceful slumber while we dreamed of the morning's delights to come, left by such wonderful beings as the Easter Bunny and St. Nickolas.

My grandfather was no fool, though. The father of six daughters, he knew the worth of a squeaky bed and its many purposes. The embarrassment factor of such a bed alone, worked far better than any chastity belt he could have devised. I have no idea how chaste my aunts actually were, but nothing untoward ever happened under grandpa's roof. By the squeak of the bed, he could also tell which daughter had come home after curfew and the locking of the doors. At least one of my aunts was known for sneaking in through the basement window and using her bed as a landing pad. One of the very same beds that I slept on in that basement dormitory as a young child.

So, my answer to my friend, who worries that a squeaking bed might keep me up at night--this guest at least, enjoys the fond memories and snatches of family stories that those creaky squealing noises beneath the mattress bring back.