It Only Takes Six More Minutes Of Sleep

It’s funny how sleep is both endless and a finger-snap* in time. On endless-feeling nights, I know I must be resting, because surely I’d have felt bored had sleep eluded me from 2:00 a.m. to 5:00 a.m. I check the clock to see whether I’d been out for five minutes or five hours, hoping for the later; hoping for the former. My mind bounces from one thought to another, some rational, some the opposite of rational, and others wondering about a snippet of a dream as it recedes back into the waves.

Many nights, it’s been six minutes and I’ve flown an airplane or fallen off a cliff. It only takes six minutes of sleep.

Those nights feel good. I suppose there’s reassurance in resting while not being completely out of it. They only feel good the next morning though. They’re frustrating while they take place, six minutes at a time.

The finger-snap in time nights are bliss, and terrifying. I wake to the alarm after not waking at all, and feel thankful, but also like anything could’ve happened. Those nights feel dreamless, dark, and restful. It’s hard to not fear that sleeping so deeply could mean I might not wake were I on the brink of death. Stupid and ridiculous, I know. But also, this is how people die, sometimes. It’s how I hope to die, a long, long time from now. After I dine with my old man son.

My favorite moments of sleep usually happen just before I wake. It’s then that my pillow nest is perfectly positioned, I’m the exact-right temperature, and is when I have the best dreams.

It Only Takes Six More Minutes Of Sleep

“Six more minutes,” I think, and turn off my alarm, falling into a former dream, or into a new one. Five more alarms go off before I have to get up for real without being late. Sometimes, I turn a few in-between alarms off, leaving only the latest for insurance. On those days, getting a few more minutes of sleep is the first thing I think of.

Having six more minutes of sleep isn’t always the first thing I think of. I wonder whether I forgot a birthday, remind myself to send somebody a card for a house-warming, and email myself book and blog posts ideas.

I think “Will Tucker make a friend here the way he did at ‘home’?” Then, “What do you mean by ‘home!’ Home is Colorado, and always has been for you.” Except, it hasn’t.

This state is new and old and everything between, with memories of hurt and joy intertwined. I disliked Virginia at first, with its bugs, humidity that took years to adjust to, and east-coast rudeness and traffic, but, somewhere along the line, Virginia became home. It’s where I met and married Robert. It’s where Tucker was conceived and born. Where Robert almost missed it. Our townhome in Virginia is where my son can walk to the neighbor’s alone. Where the community playground is a gathering place for moms, soccer balls, bubbles, and snacks. It’s where kids take turns flying off swings.

It’s where I felt at home volunteering at school, year after year.

In early morning hours, I worry whether my little boy will be okay after I’m gone, and try not to think about his life after me. I tell myself he’ll be just fine, while playing a film in my lizard brain about the moments I feel I failed him. The moments when I wasn’t enough.

I walk to the bathroom, do my business, and head downstairs to pour a cup of coffee or iced tea, depending on my mood. Having already had 1,001 thoughts within the past few minutes, I take a few to have mindful ones. “I can’t change anything about all the yesterdays,” I say.

How I wake Tucker will affect his day. His life. I let myself feel the ways in which I’m his perfect mama, humanly flawed, and humanly divine.

I climb the stairs to his messy room, and see Nugget sleeping at the foot of his bed. She jumps to the floor, before I can take a photo. I open his blinds, kiss him, and whisper “Hey, sweetest one, it’s a brand new day.”

He swats me away, or asks me to tickle his arm. He needs six more minutes of sleep, too. And then, he’ll face his day.

*** This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, with the prompt “The first thing I think about each morning is…”

*I can’t help but think about a certain somebody’s finger-snap when it comes to sleep and the world. #avengers