The Wee Hours

It's 4:10am as I write this.  I'm writing, writing, writing, furiously, working on my book.  I'm writing and intense and staring at the computer screen, until I suddenly realize that I'm forcing my eyes to stay open.  I'm so tired; I haven't slept yet, at all.  But my mind is whirring with ideas and images, inspiration, and revelations-- so much so that I wonder where they come from, certainly not from me.

I'm restless and unsettled.  I'm not satisfied with life-- I'm afraid of it, amused by it, alarmed with it once in a while, perplexed by it, angry at it, but savoring it all, just the same.  I'm trying to figure out how all the people in my life fit into the tapestry of my mind.  How do I weave them all in-- especially the ones that don't seem to fit the design.  How do I make it all come together with balance and symmetry?

My children, all of them-- love you, love you, love you.  I learn from you, I do, though you may not realize it.  I watch you, I listen to you, I look at you, I savor your image and the sound of your voice.

My husband-- I love you, I love you, I love you-- I do, I do, I do...You inspire me, perplex me, you make me angry, make me irritated, make me laugh.  When you are gone it leaves an empty space, a hole in the air beside me that's just waiting for your return, so you can fill it up, and fill me up again, with you.

I can't keep my eyes open any longer...it's time to sleep.