Sleep

I can write an ode to sleep, and maybe I will. The trouble began for me Friday morning. Because I had set my alarm for 5:40 Thursday morning to be in Albany for my 8:30 doctor's appointment, I was exhausted Thursday night. Friday morning, I didn't have to be in class, so I slept until I work up, which was 8:30 a.m. I know that doesn't sound late to most people, but during the ISI I get up at 6:30 at the latest and go until 11 or 12, then do it all again.

Ooh, one of the boys just kicked me. Kicked is a bit of a misnomer. It feels more like a bubble burst. There it goes again. Cool.

Anyway, I didn't set an alarm all weekend and slept until 8:30 every morning. Of course, when music started playing in the bedroom at 6:30, I wanted to pound something. Nothing was really around except for Wes, and it wasn't his fault that I stayed up too late and hadn't gotten sufficient sleep, so I turned off the alarm and got up, trying to be relatively quiet about it since he didn't have to be up until 8:30 or so, and he had been up as late as I had. I couldn't sleep last night (couldn't get comfortable in this pregnant body), and apparently, if I can't sleep, no one sleeps.

Yep, I'm all over the place today, but I another random note. When I told Lindsi about one boy kicking the other in the head on the ultrasound, she said, "Oh, one of them takes after you!" That's not nice, is it? I don't know that I've ever kicked anyone. Maybe hit, punched, or slapped, but not kicked. That's way too girly, right up there with pulling hair and scratching. Okay, maybe I've scratched, but that's always been an accident when my nails get too long.

Incoherence is my theme today. Perhaps that should be my topic. My writing certainly blunders from one idea to the next with no clear sense of direction, a mini-Frankenstein.

Ode to Sleep
You rescue me,
taking me to exotic places,
revisiting Greece,
Belize,
India,
reuniting me with friends from Apalachicola, Florida,
from Rehoboth Beach, Delaware,
from Whigham, Georgia.

This morning I left you again;
these short separations must stop.
I need you,
craving your arms around me,
wanting more and more time with you.
These nightly six-hour visits aren't enough;
they tease me without satisfying me.

Name the place, and I'll join you.
I prefer our bed,
snuggled into the sheets,
the comforter pulled around my chin,
head upon my pillow
belly resting upon another pillow,
but I'll meet you anywhere:
curled up on the loveseat,
leaned back in the driver's seat of my car,
even stretched across the floor without cushions.
Just meet me,
and send me into unconsciousness,
relaxing my mind
and my soul.