Can you feel me staring at you as you sleep? You are as still as my pink robe tossed at the foot of the bed. You are not even dreaming by the look of it.
I’m gazing at you with more intrigue than resentment, although that may be a lie. Not only are you sound asleep, oblivious to my scrutiny, but you were unconscious 30 seconds after your (stupid) head hit the pillow.
Sorry. That was immature.
I’m tired, and I’m envious. And I’m ascribing to you all kinds of virtues that may be unwarranted. It just seems as if you should have at least a few things to worry about, be mentally replaying at least a few cringeworthy moments.
I love the warmth of your shoulder near mine, but let’s face it. That head doesn’t contain much except “come,” “treat,” and “squirrel,” in reverse order. I’ll take you for a walk in the morning and try not to disturb you as I turn over.
The primary reason I can’t sleep is this persistent ache in my left glute, for which I’m trying various remedies. A spinal injection and a month of intense acupuncture haven’t helped enough, so I’m thinking about massage, which I’m afraid I will love too much.
In search of additional sleep remedies, I’ve been asking friends what they do to fall asleep. My friend Joe doesn’t monkey around with the mind monkeys—he goes straight for the drugs. Unisom is his friend.
A guy in the waiting room at acupuncture swears the key is counting backward from 498. I like that he has a specific starting point that clearly is no one else’s.
Till now.
I want to ask him why we are using 498, but he already has his shoes on and is heading out as I’m heading in.
My friend Haley has recently discovered a sure-fire method: seeing how many words she can make from a single word. She is way too excited about this.
Like monkey-mind. There’s key, monk, on, oink, din, mind, in, dim. Are you sleeping? Like gratitude. There’s read, it, are, rate, great, dear, due, rag…still awake.
So, I’ve come up with my own method. It’s making a list of what if’s?
If I’d been the first-born girl instead of the last in my family, I would have no girl skills and standards at all.
If I had not gone on a blind date when I was 19, I would not have my three children. I’d have other children, no doubt, but who wants those?
If I had married my sophomore-year boyfriend, Will, I’d have been a widow at 55.
If Sue D. hadn’t majored in drama the year I majored in drama, I would not have changed majors.
If I had not had an offer to work for a magazine the same day I was accepted to graduate school in pastoral counseling, I’d have been a therapist, not a writer. And yes…I do question whether there’s much of a difference, you memoirists.
If I had not volunteered at the SPCA, my solitary heart would not have been rescued by the warm body sleeping belly up in my bed.
But backing the camera up, if my 10th great-grandfather had not transferred passage from the leaking Speedwell to the Mayflower in September 1620, I might not have been born in America.
If the planet Theia had not hit proto-Earth with a glancing blow 4.5 billion years ago, we would not have seasons and a moon.
If we didn’t have a moon to slow us, an Earth day would still be 19.5 hours as it was a billion years ago.
No full moons, Harvest Moons, Wolf Moons.
No moon rivers.
If I had gone to visit my mother more when she was in assisted living, perhaps I’d sleep better at night.
How many words can I make from regret?
How many from love?
Some words are indivisible.
Like me, beloveds. Like you.
Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.
Note: On June 5 Laura Oliver and Andrew Oliver will be reading stories as part of the Spy Night Series at the Avalon Theatre. Doors open at 6:00 pm
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Beautiful. Thank you.
Re: hip pain/sleep – try Feldenkrais, Awareness Through Movement (generally), and Feldenkrais Access, David Zemach-Bersin (specifically). I am an evangelist 😉
Thank you and thank you. I’m reading up on your suggestion.
Couldn’t love this more. As always your words make me think and feel.
Thanks, Val. As a writer yourself you know that in one way or another, that’s the work at hand!
Lovely! Your piece touches on the same issues as this week’s Spy Poetry poem: the “congruence of infinitessimal events and circumstances” that shape our lives.