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.
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.
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,
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.