It's one of those nights. Where I cannot seem to fall asleep. No matter how deep my exhaustion lies, no matter how quiet the house sounds or how dark this room glows. My mind spins relentlessly in my head making me dizzy although I lay still enough that from a distance you'd think I was dead. Clutching the soft plush ear of a stuffed rabbit I do find comfort in, although I've been told that I'm now much to old for that sort of thing. But maybe it's enough to say that I am secretly sometimes still scared of the dark; things that go bump in the night.
So I hold tight, to memories never forgotten and dreams I've dreamt one too many times.
Still, sometimes, I find myself awake in the morning, playing that childhood game where the linoleum floor is made of lava and if I get out of my fire proof bed I'll die. So I try, to see how long it takes before I have to give up and give in to the heat of another cold winter day.
Only sometimes.
Because I remember he had once written somewhere, in some book, that our yesterdays will melt into our tomorrows and we some how always miss today.
So now every silent silver night that I am so exhausted and extinguished that I am asleep by the moment my fingers lace around a stuffed rabbits ears, I smile, understanding that phrase he had once written somewhere, in some book.
And now ever loud golden morning I pretend I'm five again and I believe with every waking sound that I will burn away the moment my feet touch the ground that surrounds my bed, I laugh, remembering that phrase he had once written somewhere, in some book.
And more often then not that is enough to keep my hurricane mind at bay, until days like today, and nights like right now. Nights when I remember that it is impossible to sleep alone. Nights I remember I am not the little girl I once was when this foreign place was called home. Nights I remember I am not the woman I write myself to be, though I know she is there, written somewhere, in some book. Written on the thin dog-eared pages of my thin sun leather skin. And so much is written there.
Memories never forgotten; dreams I've dreamt one too many times.
Of him.
He was my darkest nights and my brightest mornings, and now I'm getting used to the fact that he no longer exists here and now and ever again. Though somehow, his long lost words still keep me in line, but sometimes. On days like today, nights like right now;
a small stuffed rabbit and a still, restless night are enough to remind me that I'm only human and that sometimes,
the hardest part about falling asleep, is waking up.