A cat, nearby and unseen, cries, giving voice to the restlessness I’m feeling. My cigarette slowly burns, more as a companion than anything in the middle of the night. I hear a train approach and then watch as the cars pass; I cannot count the cars as it’s still far too dark for that sort of activity. I inhale the lovely fragrance of the night blooming jasmine just steps away from where I am. The man I love slumbers in our bed.
When I return to the warmth of our home, I cannot embrace my sleeplessness as I normally would — with laundry or dishes I could be washing — for fear of waking my darling. My eyelids are heavy but not heavy enough to carry me back to bed.
At some point, my King Arthur wakes to find me gone and he calls out to me. I let him know I’m okay, “Baby, I just can’t sleep.” He comes to me and holds me. He scratches my back for me, whispers in my ear of his love for me.
I grab a bottle of water and head to the bedroom, stopping for a bathroom break. I sit alone in the dark and wonder why I can’t sleep but that brings me no comfort at all. I try lying down once again. The relentless twitchiness I feel makes it impossible to remain in bed, so I get dressed and head out to the library again where I catch up on emails and blog reading. Anything to fight off the loneliness of being awake while most slumber.
Another train approaches. It’s smaller this time and the sound is somewhat muffled by the closed door. I almost step outside just to see if I might be able to count the cars, though I think better of it. No need to go outside again until my body is hot enough to warrant a little of the “almost chill” night air.
So I remain inside, glued to the computer. Perhaps I’ll get a little work done. Perhaps not so much. Either way, I’ll survive this night.
If I had no conscience, I would wake my partner and spend time in his great company, but he needs his sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us and he needs to rest as much as he can. Instead, I ponder how much I love him and how lucky I am to have him in my life, to be living with someone so dear and thoughtful and calming and charming and intoxicating. Just thinking of him makes my heart beat faster. I want to be near him; surrounded by the sounds and the breath of his slumber. Maybe we’d read together or talk and laugh about nothing. Maybe we could play a game or watch a movie. Again, I cannot allow him to walk away from the sleep he so desperately needs right now.
Tip tap tip tap tip tap, I go along as I let the words flow from my fingers. I do this as quietly as possible. I’m lonely, but I’m not selfish enough to ask for the one thing, the only thing, that will relax me enough to find slumber soon. The computer will be my friend for now as I wait for the Sandman to visit me once more. At least, I hope he will. Until that time, I’ll write what I feel and meditate upon the marvelous gift of love, of hearth and home, of simple things that bring me such joy as to make my eyes mist up a dozen times a day. I’ll dwell not on the worries. I’ll not revisit regrets or grievances, for really, I have so few. I will just pass the time as productively as possible until sleep envelops me, if ever it does.
This is the life of an insomniac. An insomniac with a blog.
