associated in random thought

when a girl cannot sleep.

i awoke at 5 am this morning, after tossing and turning for hours. the night previous was an epic nightmare of kidnap and murder of one of the children in my family.

the violence was nauseating.
the evil, palpable.

last night, i prayed for peaceful rest, like my mom taught me when i was little.

lord, keep anne warm, healthy, happy, and safe. give her dreams from you...

last night, i didn't dream.
when i woke up, i couldn't stay in bed.

so i put on a pot of coffee, and moved outdoors to the patio, where i sit now. charley is lying against the glass door, sleeping, her face pressed against the pane. she is snoring. the glass around her nose is foggy and wet. my guard dog.

now is that moment when the night sounds mingle with a brightening sky. the clouds are pinkening, and the sky behind them is a sleepy morning blue. trees are still in the humidity, and already i am sweating.

yet i am peaceful in this particular moment; the answer to a mother's prayer, one that stretches out across time to hold me from childhood to the uncertainty of now.

my mother sang rockabye after nightly childhood prayers.
when the bough inevitably broke every night, and the cradle fell, baby never came all the way down; the cradle did not crash into the ground. instead, my mother sang:

when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and jesus will catch you, cradle and all.

it's a long way down.
but my faith is still in the hope of the catching.

i'm my own little holden caulfield this morning, aren't i?

Posted by bananie at August 12, 2005 5:24 AM | TrackBack