It wakes me, this tightening band.
And I stumble out of bed.
A glass of water, a bite to eat.
I shuffle to my chair and wrap myself with a new blanket, so soft and warm.
I look like an old lady, hunched over in prayer.
I try to settle in, but comfort eludes me,
And I squirm and wiggle like my dog.
Time passes and, unlike my dog, I never find that magical spot.
The tightening-
It comes and it goes,
But my head, oh my throbbing head…
It is the constant.
My eyes hurt.
My face hurts.
My teeth hurt.
I hurt.
And yet I don’t cry.
I want to.
But I don’t.
Because of my promise to myself to savor it-
Even the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad moments.
And I move from my chair to his.
The reclining helps.
Another wave hits me,
Hits her.
I imagine my little girl chillin’ in her private pool-
When all of a sudden the walls come crashing in,
Squeezing her tightly.
At first she fights it,
Kicking, stretching, pushing back.
And then she gives in.
She lets the my body hug hers.
I could learn a lot from her.