I am so grateful to have slept well last night.
My anxiety is up early again... talking to god... in the 3 o’clock hour.
Which is all well and good. She’s usually quick. But sometimes she’s a little too loud, and her sister grief wakes up.
And now we’re in trouble.
It’s especially cruel to wonder what others are doing in these hours, and to see people complain about the very real distress of caring for crying or sick littles. Sleepless nights in the disastrous wake of an ear infection or the curse of colic.
And somehow I’m up - the clock in me eager to check on a sleeping babe, and instead finding emptiness. Always emptiness, like the aftermath of the fire. Beautiful in its own right, and terrible for those whose livelihoods it has consumed.
My life is consumed this morning.
Grief. The colic of the mind.
Unexplainable and relentless. Easy to wake and impossible to put down.