As I was saying last week, one of the tender graces of our marriage is companionship, and nothing illustrates that better than the rooms we inhabit: the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom—the married couple’s geography I’ve chosen to explore in these blogs. I discussed the living room last week and began on the kitchen, leaving off with Tony’s preparing the corn on the cob and my buttering and burning the rolls (and I’d like to say there’s quite a bit of the roll left when you peel off the black stuff).

But after we’ve eaten and are as full as we could or should be, Tony clears dishes, while I wash them before they go into the dishwasher.

This cooking and cleaning up together, as far as I’m concerned, is a great system. I know women who wish their husbands would just sit in the kitchen and chat with them while they work, so this companionship is a tender grace for sure.

Our companionship even extends into the bathroom, although this I can’t really recommend. He takes a hot shower; I toss ice water on his unsuspecting back. (For one, brief, unthinking moment, this treachery seems worth the terror of retaliation that I will anticipate during my next twenty showers. Unfortunately, he never gets me right back.)

But, as far as I’m concerned, the best place for a companion is the bedroom. Oh, the different nights. While this is a little personal, I think there is value in categorizing them.

Nights I lie there, pouring out my mistakes or triumphs, my regrets or dreams, and I don’t have to suppress sadness or stifle jubilance rather than admit either emotion to indifferent walls.

Nights when I, a grown, responsible woman, can say silly, senseless, preposterous things, and only he and I will know.

Nights I want to read “just a few more pages,“ yet even in such singular activity I feel the camaraderie of his warm, sleeping body close to mine.

Nights when what I need more than anything is this world is to be held, and he puts an arm around me and snuggles close, shaping himself into me.

And then other nights, when I want to give and to take love, and he’s there, knowing me so well.

His comfort is multifaceted, and he makes me glad that it is not yet time for one of us to be alone.