4:30 in the morning and I’m awake. Staring at nothing. Listening to breathing and humming. My head hurts. There is an ache starting from my shoulders, creeping its way up the back of my neck, holding my head hostage. The pounding in my ears sounds like muffled footsteps. Running in circles. I try to listen passed the uncomfortableness, but it is hopeless.
The lounge chair in my living room calls me, I am driven to try a new space. With a cup of coffee in hand, I rest my head on the curvy green seat, and wait for the caffeine.
I haven’t written in a week. I feel like I haven’t really slept either. Our first week of summer and I’ve spent more time in the car than I drove all school year, sports schedules, friends, end of year banquets. The house is spilling out from every corner, trying to get my attention. I listen to the kids bicker. I listen to friends struggling. I listen to my husband remind me of things that need done. I listen to random music and singing escaping from closed bedroom doors or behind shower curtains. I listen to people talking at me. I listen to people telling me what they need, what they want. I listen to my name being called over and over all day long.
“Mom, I need…”
“Mom, I want…”
“Mom, did you know…”
“Mom, can we…”
“Mom, listen to this…”
“Mom, do I have to…”
And I feel guilty that I want it to be my turn to talk.