Insomnia Nonsense
I can't sleep tonight, and so I'm up wasting time, buying books from Amazon and thinking how miserable I'll be in the morning. My brain is working too fast, whirling around like one of those tops kids have where you pull the tab fast and it spins, spins, spins. Be quiet, brain. It's time to rest.
Tonight I finished a book set in Hawaii, on the same island where we spent our honeymoon. The characters traveled over the volcano we hiked, swam near black sand beaches like ours, and walked through forests I can still see in my memory. They talk about the rain that comes every afternoon, and the frogs that sing them to sleep, and I can close my eyes and be there, in a world just far enough away.
I miss Hawaii, but I think what I miss most of all was not having any worries or responsibilities. There were no demands on my time, no problems that had to be solved, no unpleasant tasks to deal with, no obligations. There was just me, my husband, the breeze, and sunshine. And the lizards. And cookies. I had cookies.
But that was two weeks stolen from the normal pattern of life -- it couldn't last. Could it? Does life have to be this relentless pace of do, do, do, or can it be slower, less heavy? I already know the answer to that question -- of course it doesn't have to be like this. But you also cannot live in vacation. At some point it stops being vacation.
But I also know it's 3:32 am, and everything seems heavier at 3:32 am. This is why it's better to battle insomnia through Fresh Prince reruns than through blog posts. Tomorrow I will wake up -- or not, if I never end up going to sleep -- and I'll go to work, and I'll be happy to talk to people, and solve problems, and deal with all the tasks there are to deal with, and to be busy. There are a lot bigger problems to have.
Tonight I finished a book set in Hawaii, on the same island where we spent our honeymoon. The characters traveled over the volcano we hiked, swam near black sand beaches like ours, and walked through forests I can still see in my memory. They talk about the rain that comes every afternoon, and the frogs that sing them to sleep, and I can close my eyes and be there, in a world just far enough away.
I miss Hawaii, but I think what I miss most of all was not having any worries or responsibilities. There were no demands on my time, no problems that had to be solved, no unpleasant tasks to deal with, no obligations. There was just me, my husband, the breeze, and sunshine. And the lizards. And cookies. I had cookies.
But that was two weeks stolen from the normal pattern of life -- it couldn't last. Could it? Does life have to be this relentless pace of do, do, do, or can it be slower, less heavy? I already know the answer to that question -- of course it doesn't have to be like this. But you also cannot live in vacation. At some point it stops being vacation.
But I also know it's 3:32 am, and everything seems heavier at 3:32 am. This is why it's better to battle insomnia through Fresh Prince reruns than through blog posts. Tomorrow I will wake up -- or not, if I never end up going to sleep -- and I'll go to work, and I'll be happy to talk to people, and solve problems, and deal with all the tasks there are to deal with, and to be busy. There are a lot bigger problems to have.