It’s around 12:00am, and for some reason I can’t fall asleep. I open the mini blinds at the head of my bed, and look out into the night. Everything is still. I can see eight stationary cars. One of the only times cars are still. There is no sign of life, not even the single quiver of wind through the leaves on the trees. The only movement I see is that of an airplane moving in the opposite direction of myself. All I can think about is the beginning of my book, and how the words just won’t come to me. I feel like I’m alone, and writing normally helps that feeling, but tonight its not. I have other things on my mind.
I turn over and try to fall asleep. Insomnia is a monstrous thing. I can hear noises in the other room. I could drink a beer or two, and that would help me to mellow out, and eventually fall asleep or I could take a Benadryl or maybe three, and hope that maybe that does the trick. I pull the covers up to my eyes and pretend that I’m a turtle, now I’m hiding, and I’m beginning to cry. Why is everything so stressful and so chaotic? All I want is to be able to go to sleep without worrying about the damn book, about the damn house and the damn husband. I wish he was home. Of course, duty calls, and that means that the man is the driving force in his life right now, even if THE MAN, puts him on the other side of the world. Damn it! Why can I just not think about him?
I think that sometimes we go through these alone times, these….stressful times, in order to grow both mentally and psychologically. But with the coming of all these womanly changes, I don’t see how I can grow much more. I’m a middle age woman and all I’ve ever wanted in life is a love, some kids, and a home by the ocean. Luckily I’ve got two of the three, but it’s not the two that most people expected me to have. I guess, because I have the personality of a ten year old, and because I love kids so much, everyone...Mom, Dad, Grandma, all knew that I was going to be a great mom. Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. After trying to get pregnant for 3 years, we finally decided to get tested. Let’s just say, it wasn’t him.
All of these things, good and bad, are going through my head tonight. I turn back over and look out the blinds some more. There is life out there! A cat, gray and white, exploring the night life. I remember doing that, back when I could fit in my size 6 jeans, and when my hair was long and blonde. Now, I’m lucky if I can fit into a size 10 jean, and my hair is short and gray. It’s amazing how a cat can remind me of 15 years ago. Huh, yeah now that I think about it, I know why I can’t sleep. I’m a 54 year old woman, in a queen size bed, with no one to hold me, touch me, or make love to me. Honestly, I don’t know that I still could make love if given the opportunity! Shit, why am I damning my house, my husband and my book? I should be damning myself. But why do that? I didn’t do this to myself! I didn’t make myself to be this horrible old hag, who sits up night after night, trying desperately to put her life back together. Whose fault is that? Now who do I blame? Give me someone to blame, damn it!
Oh great, now I’m crying and I’m mad. I look at the night stand beside my bed; the clock now reads 2:30 am. Ok, so I should try the beer and Benadryl combo, and if that doesn’t work, then…I guess I’ll start cleaning up the house or maybe I will go sit of the back porch and watch the tide go out. The tide sounds more promising.
I sit up, I uncover my body, and I turn, then place my feet on the cold floor. My nightgown drapes to my knees and hangs loosely on my body. I don’t think that sleep is an option and I don’t think that the beer and Benadryl combo is such a great idea tonight. I don’t want to kill myself right now, so I need to do something that will make me feel like there is a bit worth living for. I really believe that crying and bitching over spilt milk makes me feel better for a while, but in all honesty, I know that come tomorrow, the mess will still be there and will still need to be cleaned up.
Instead of sitting on my porch, I decide to go and sit on the beach. My cat looks at me curiously from around the corner of the living room door, wondering what all the commotion is about. As I’m putting on my gray sweatshirt, my running pants, and my shoes and socks, I see that the noise I had heard earlier was the cat knocking over the empty beer bottles. Well, I also see that they weren’t all empty. Of course, leave it to me to throw my journal on the floor next to the computer. All of it covered with amber beer, all of it ruined. Maybe it’s a sign. How do I start fresh and new? I grab my beanie and walk down the stairs leading to the beach from my back porch.
It’s just a little chilly out here, but the air revives my skin and I feel refreshed. It’s amazing how just looking out the window left me to believe that the world was dead. I go to where the water meets the earth and sit down. The sand is damp, and it feels comforting to my feet. I look at my watch, and I realize that the time has really gone by quickly. In an hours time the sun will begin to rise and life will begin venturing out again, reviving the earth.
I sit on the beach, watching the tide lay its hands on the grains of sand. I watch the earth cleanse itself, exfoliating its dead skin. One by one the grains lose sparkle as water rushes over them, each time bringing new earth to replace the old. The entire coastline is white and pure. I forgot how just being near the ocean can be so rejuvenating. I feel the cool air of the coastal breeze caress my face, as a mother does her child.
The waves are smaller now. I feel like the shore is growing. Where I sat on the edge of the foam line upon my arrival, I now see it has gone away from me. The sea tries to stay on the shore, reaching as far as it can each time. The earth is thirsty, leaving the beach bare. I feel comforted watching the tide move out. I see that even though it is losing ground, it is still fighting to be heard and seen.
I remember as a child, my mother telling me stories of why the ocean moves away from the land. She always said that it might go away, but it always comes back to us. My mother held great wisdom beyond her years. How was I to know that her words would be echoing in my head in the wee hours of the morning? The ocean holds the many hidden answers to all of the queries of my insomnia.
The colors begin to change quickly, as the sun begins to rise. I wilt onto the sand as I grow weary. As the earth wakes, I lie my head down in the sand. It is time for rest, but I don’t want to leave this placid place I have found. I should go back to the house, crawl in bed, and go to sleep. I think sleep has found me now. I wander up to my back steps; the sun is shining into my bedroom. Maybe I have found my answers. I’ll try them out and see.
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