i lay there and hope it's not real; that i'm not really awake again/still.
if i use the flashlight it will only be for a little while.
it's not for long.
i'm not getting up but i do have things on my mind that i need to get off my mind.
writing them down will help.
bad nights wear me out but they are productive.
when i do this the dogs move closer to me. they cuddle.
first it's, "does she suddenly have a snack?"
then they know.
you can almost see it pass between them.
"you think she's cold?"
"yeah. she's pretty miserable. let's make a mommy sandwich."
so they deepen their cuddle. i can feel their bodies squirm and twist as they snuggle down to get still closer to me.
he was always so warm. i never wore socks to bed. he would keep my feet between his legs. or i would move my feet close and he would capture them to warm them. he always knew.
and he burned so brightly. he was always so warm to the touch.
Lord, i miss him.
i'd love to talk to him, have him embrace me and lend me some of his confidence, his bravado, that something-something that he had that kept him going on the worst days, his worst days when he was a Marine trying to survive and get home.
Lord, i really do miss him.
so under that soft light, i write what's on my mind.
a fantasy grocery list for a day when i have enough money to go.
things i need to take care of at work.
things i want to remember.
thoughts i have.
like this blog.
little notes to myself because i don't want to forget.
secret things that the cold light of day would diminish.
Christmas is coming. i have worries.
busy time/stressful time for retail people.
worried about meeting the new higher rent that will start up on Jan. 1.
i wish things had turned out differently. and i am glad certain things didn't.
but writing them down on a scrap of paper lit by a flashlight in the dark seems to make them more manageable. it makes it seem like maybe i'm coming up with a plan to deal with them.
like maybe, just maybe, by some form of Grace, i might survive this.