King-Size Christmas?

I was determined to replace our lumpy old mattress with one my parents would be comfortable sleeping on during their visit. I just had to get the thing home

- Alisa Griffis

Two burly employees carried the king-size mattress out to the parking lot, nearly buckling under the weight as they hoisted it onto the roof of my Dodge Colt. It hung down almost to the back bumper, drooping forward over the windshield of my tiny car by about two feet. It hung over the sides of the car as well, like an oversize flapjack.

One of the employees brought out a length of sturdy, corded rope. I got in the car and rolled down all four windows so the men could wind the rope across the mattress, then loop it through the open windows over and over. It took some trial and error, but soon the mattress was deemed secure, and I was off.

An adventurous drive was not something I’d put on my Christmas shopping list, but this mattress surely was. Just two days earlier, my parents called to say they were coming to spend the night on Christmas Eve. They wanted to be there to watch the grandkids open presents in the morning. This was their first sleepover since we’d moved to this house, perched up in the mountains, where the Santa Ana winds were predicted to gust throughout the holidays.

My husband and I decided to give my parents the master bedroom and bunk in the spare bed in our son’s room. Money was tight, but our old mattress was worn and saggy and now a new one couldn’t wait.

I’d found this used king-size for a steal—$50. All I needed to do was get it home. The drive was 27 miles long. It usually took me about 40 minutes, but that was when I was going the speed limit. Now, whenever I accelerated above 20 miles per hour, I could feel the mattress lift a bit, straining the ropes. I slowed to 15. Lord, help me get home safely, I prayed.