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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
| When the grandson stays over, I sleep on the futon in the spare room where his bed is to keep him company. When I say sleep, I mean sleep in all its various forms like tossing and turning, curling up in pain and desperately willing myself to stay in bed until a decent hour. I managed until 3:47am, at which point I turned on the coffee pot, knowing it would not be brewed before 4:00. Drinking coffee before 4:00 would be indecent. When I was a kid, I could sleep anywhere. I slept outside on the ground, straight through until the sun in my eyes woke me up or the grasshoppers clambering about the dry August grass made too much noise. I slept on the concrete floor of my friend's basement. When my kids were young, I regularly got up at 4:00 to write for a few peaceful hours before work. Now I get up at 4:00am because sleeping too long is painful. But it's nearly 5:00 and that's late enough to blog. |
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