3:15 am and I’m awake in the night again. This happens each month, a cycle of two or three restless nights when I wake up in the wee hours, who can say why—no noises in the house or outside, no headache or body ache or cramp. No need to pee. No mouth dried out. No snores from anyone in the bed next to me (no one in the bed next to me). No cat, no dog, no bird, no rabbit or hamster; no neighbor, no homeless wanderer in the alley rattling his basket.
And here I am. Awake and awake. Tossing and turning. Thinking and thinking. That’s the damnedest part, the thinking: What should I wear to ___________? I need to write to ____________. Here’s what’s wrong with the piece I wrote yesterday: _____________, _____________, ___________, ___________, ____________, ____________, and ____________. Maybe I should wear the ____________. Oh! I completely forgot _________. And , Oh! I need to __________. Maybe the black dress with the beads, but then which shoes?
At 5:15 I think I may as well get up. The sky is beginning to lighten in the east, but I am so tired. Maybe I should just read something for a few minutes, to stop the mind from its twirly-whirlies.
But I don’t read anything, and then . . . it’s 8:15 and somehow I did sleep. Isn’t it strange, we can remember exactly when we wake up, but never the exact time we go to sleep.
June’s full moon is tomorrow. The Full Strawberry Moon, and the “smallest” full moon of the year. A mini-moon some call it. But even though it’s at its apogee—furthest from the earth in its annual cycle—it’s still a sleep-stealer for me. I’ll take a good book to bed with me tonight.