Sounds in the Night...

I once could fall asleep anywhere... Any time. I've been known to sleep in bathtubs, make a bed on marble hospital floors, lie in dreams in the parking lot of malls... Just about anywhere. Call it the sleep of the innocent... Or the trusting...or something other than now. If I had a phone call in the night, I could chat lively, hang up, and turn over and go right back to dreamland. No more.

I bought a Daybed for Mom's dining room during her hospital stay. The idea was for her to sleep on it and be near the room I'd taken as my own here at her house. However, the new bed is too tall, too hard, too... foreign in nature. She was yearning for her own little, lumpy mattress. The bathroom is so near her bedroom. So I took the new Daybed because it is upstairs, nearer to her. There is sooo much more going on ip here. I'm right square in front of a west window... I see more lights, hear more old house sounds, experience the winds, rains, howlings of Missouri winter, which has been warm and eerie. If I drift off a bit, any sound brings me awake. Tonight the wind and rains slash at my window... The furnace register beneath my bed taunts me. I'm hot... Sheet only. I'm frozen! Grab the fur throw...

 

We had a wonderful Christmas. Mom felt very well, and My son was amazing, as always. Today he's ill with the flu or something. I worry that it's that terrible cellulitis he gets at times. Worry. I never used to worry. I couldn't even. I saw no point. I used to tell my mom and grandmother, veteran worrywarts, "Worry changes nothing, indicates something "less-than" in the person who stews and frets." ..... Oh, well... I agree with my long-ago self, but I do the mental mind crushing anyway. I have concluded worrying slows the clock, drags the living to a menacing halt... It sure makes sleepless nights such as this much, much longer. The better to hear things with, my dears. The better to wonder 

why nerves in my feet never came back to life and pain free health after I let them swell and hurt 

waiting for Mom in the hospital. The better to stew over my son. The better to watch my mom in my mind's memory-eye as she crashed to the ground on Thanksgiving.

Perchance I'll become more accustomed up here. Nothing stays the same. But often I'm not happy with the changes either... I think the best changes are the ones we plan for, the alterations and milestone markers we make happen for ourselves, rather than the ones that just unfold willy nilly upon us. My photo here of Mom on Christmas is so sweet. She loves Whitman chocolates, and my son found a mammoth box! You will see no pictures of me on Christmas. I resemble that character on Frozen... That Olaf creature... Without sleep... Or peace... Not pretty.

Ha ha.... In case you were at all missing my posts, this should fix you. In summary. A grateful, 

blessed Christmas. So much to be thankful for. Just sleepy blogging... And in dire need of my makeup.... (Which is all the way down four whole steps to my other world)..... Which I complained about when I was down there, I believe

 

Tick tock... My window to the wind..

Hmmmmmmm. Do I think I need a glass of ice water? Or a snack? It's right around this corner...

Doesn't she look pretty in her new dress? I curled her hair on Christmas morning...

Good night.....