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.