3:33am

Laying awake, I stare up into the popcorn ceiling as a red light hums quietly against the maroon colored walls. And in my throat lives a lump the size of my fist; it’s harder to swallow and my hands are glistening with sweat. And as I feel into the grooves of the mattress against my spine and the many pillows lining my body, a wonder brushes past my eyelids; as delicate as a betrodden exhale, the kind our bodies release at the embrace of our beloved. The ‘finally’ sigh. This brush of air breezes in language that speaks of a new chapter. It sweeps in with it a tiny little stirring and I pull the covers closer to me. Giddy and mixy and terribly afraid of what’s coming next. And as my jaw clenches tighter, I remember the many times my feet touched fertile soil. I recall how my soles become dampened by dewy blades of grass decorated with condensation from the night before. With this teensy breath, all of a sudden I feel weightlessness that carries me to a time were what was over the horizon did not scald the insides of these eyelids like this. Change can access a Nirvana when keyed into it right. Bliss, with calibrated vision. & I keep seeing the red light from the inside of my closed eyes. And my body suddenly gets heavier as sleep comes nearer. A needed relief or welcomed distraction; for a moment, when these heavier thoughts suspend I’ll find a smile or two lulling into a slumber to help me forget what I hate to remember.