i write this with a sound-asleep babycat tucked up next to me. he is snoring, deeply sleeping, curled up, his paws tucked in, one under his little head. it is sweet and i savor this moment of his complete trust. he is obviously in bliss.
i envy his blissful slumber. i am not as good a sleeper as he. this middle-age-menopause thing wakes me every night. and every night, despite my urging to the contrary, my brain, clearly wildly uncontrolled, starts to think. lists accumulate, calendars form in my mind, my worry starts. and that’s it. i am lost in the weeds of insomnia.
after we had spoken about it a day or so prior, dan told me one morning that he had been awake thinking of our under-the-sink plumbing problem at 2am (!) and had, at that hour, come up with a solution. truth be told, he didn’t really have to wait under the next day; i’m quite sure i was awake and could have had a plumbing-solution-guru-text chat in the wee hours. wendy and 20 have both teased about texting me in the middle of the night when they are awake. i am not alone in sleep deprivation.
this painting is like looking at babycat. a sleep that is uninterrupted, peaceful. it evokes younger images of small children on mats during naptime. it is serene.
babycat stretches and rolls onto his back. he is tucked under the computer cord, laying on top of papers. but he is content. and back to sleep. sweet sleep.
4×4/SLUMBER ©️ david robinson