words after dark . . .

My mind never rests.

There’s no at-ease button.

I lay down the book I am reading to review for a Book Club choice and it is as if I hear an audible click in my brain:

Now.

I should

first – fill the diffuser with eucalyptus oil and run it in the bedroom where Otto and Piper and I are sleeping to combat the chest cold/cough thing we’re fighting against

next – I should write this week’s meals on the menu board

then – I should walk Ryder

and after that – should I try to submit another article or take a break and watch a show?

I hear sounds from the “sleepers” upstairs and I am a little frustrated when I eye the clock.

I pause my activities and head up the steps.

I see the dirt and the dust at the edges of especially the top stairs and mentally try to add that to a list somewhere in my mind but even as I’m thinking I know it’s a To-Do that probably won’t get To-Done.

The landing features stacks of clothes that need to be tried on to see if they fit my growing taller every season children and I am tired just thinking about seasonal clothing shifts.

Which reminds me.

I started a load of laundry at nine this morning and it’s nine this evening and I never took them out of the washing machine and that’s not a problem I’m really planning to conquer tonight which means it will be a problem to conquer tomorrow.

And at the top of the steps, hanging on a wall, is a framed picture my eyes haven’t landed upon in months upon months and it was a gift from one of our daughters and in her handwriting it says “love will hold us together” surrounded by pictures of a couple who are absolutely not held together.

I pause.  For only half a beat.  I think ironically of the falsehood that frame is promoting and wonder what on earth I should do about that but I just keep walking back down the dirty steps.

Downstairs, the kitchen fan beats out a rhythm steady and marked 

and the obvious aloneness at this hour is thick and charged.

We have four light bulbs out at last count.

One by Bergen’s bedside.  One very high in the closet.  Another very high and just out of my reach even on a stool in the bathroom.  Another in the attic.

I need to add toilet paper to the grocery list.

Cough drops would be nice right now but late night medicine runs (and dessert runs) are a luxury of my past.

I’d sell a kidney right now for a neck and shoulder massage.

A back scratch sounds like a million dollar prize and who knew you could miss the human touch this much?

Also.  The words “I’ll handle it.”   Or “Relax.  I’ve got this.”