Run Away

It’s late at night and I can’t sleep. I’m sitting in the living room, lights off and only my laptop to keep my company.

I should be tired. We didn’t sleep well last night and I had nightmares to boot so logically that would make me exhausted.

Except I’m not. I’m wide awake and when I lay down to try to sleep I just stare out into nothing, toss and turn, or just get all twisted and sweaty in my sheets trying to find a cool spot to rest on.

I want my brain just to stop. This is exactly what we’ve been teaching our son to do, to distract himself from the bad thoughts, from the scary ideas and his wild imagination when it threatens to keep him up all night. And he does it.

Yet here I am, not taking my own advice.

To be really honest what I want to do is go for a run. I’ve lately struggled with some stomach issues and haven’t been running. But now, at 11:45 pm, I really want to lace up my sneakers and take off on a jog. There is no difference between 11 at night and 5 in the morning, right? I used to do early morning jogs all the time…

I won’t go out, though. I’ll stay home where it is safe and sound. Where my husband snores lightly upstairs, our sweetheart pets run their nocturnal race, and where my son sleep soundly.

I’ll just stay right here trying to distract my mind and get some rest.

Resting Wicked

Last night I slept lightly, with the wind from our ceiling fan gently grazing my skin as I tucked myself under my tattered quilt.

The days seemed longer and the nights, too short. My dreams were fleeting and my sleep, light as feathers.

I woke to the dim morning hues of grey-blue and soft white. The air was delicate and the silence thickly hung amidst our inhales and sweet exhales.

And there was the sea of sheets, ebbing and caressing my legs hung out to dry from beneath the squares of yesterday and forever quilted together.

I felt so far from you, yet there you were, an arm’s length away. The rise and fall of your sleeping form shuttered the wispy sheets that pooled between us.

Reaching across the space, snaking across time, my fingertips met with your warm skin hugged so tightly beneath your blankets and dreams.

Over the hills of your hips to the curves and valley of you stomach did my hand travel. And, resting there, I fell into slumber with your body against mine.

Together we rose and fell, our breath the only sign of life between us. You muttered. I hummed in response. We rested peacefully, embraced.

No longer existing between, the gap was replaced with my form pressing against yours. And together, entwined, we napped in blissful repose.

Letter To My Son: Missing You Much


When you were little, you shared a bed with me. It was for a number of reasons. One being that you nursed and having you close made it easier for me during those middle of the night feedings. Another was that we had a small apartment and only one bed in the beginning. I saw no need for a second while you were so small.

But the biggest reason was because I loved having you near. I loved having your little body so close that I could reach out and touch your sweet head or stroke your soft cheeks. I loved having you near.

When you started to get older and bigger, you started to seek out more space in the bed and found your favorite sleeping position. Most often it meant your little baby toes would tuck underneath my thighs as you dreamed sweetly about playing on the playground or building with blocks.

I didn’t realize until we were separated by many many miles that I love feeling your beautiful little feet tucked against me. The way they wiggle under and find the sweet spot where they will rest for the night.

That simple little moment of touch, that point of contact, means so much to me. To know I’m raising a sweet and sensitive boy who loves hugs and shows affection to all those he cares for.

I miss your toes and the way you seek me out when we sleep close together. I’m looking forward to your return soon, my son.

No matter the distance between us, mama will love you always.


You Mom


Let the Nightfall come and
the shades drop slowly.
Bring in the soothing sounds
of the velvety skies
and the welcomed comfort
of rest.

Let the windows press open,
the scent of orange blossoms and jasmine outside
drifting in on dancing curls of
warm Summer night air,
swirling and slipping away.

Let your eyes droop and fall closed, Little Boy,
tuckered and tired from a day of
running and grass stains and
swimming till your lungs feel like they could
burst with excitement and joy,
so full of life.

Close your eyes,
steady your breathing.
Dream of ice cream and sand castles,
waves of salty sea water and
unending laughter.

Let the summer air envelope you in slumber, Little Boy,
so sweet and so soothing,
you rest in peace and calm till
Nightfall fades with the waking
of the Morning Sunrise.

Till then, Little Boy…
and dream of the many days ahead.


On My Own

The air was cool and a breeze from out side floated in, ruffling the still curtains against the window. A sliver of moon light pierced the shadows, drawing a line across the beige carpet beneath the window, creeping along as the curtains billowed out and returned against the windowsill. Jasmine and orange blossoms danced lightly through the moon streak and scented the air with my childhood memories.

I stared into the darkness watching the performance before my eyes, breathing in the delicate scent of the flowers surrounding my window and watching the miniscule particles of dust and light play in the silvery moon beam peaking through the trees.

It was the second night in a row that I was unable to find peace enough to sleep. The house was silent and settling after a long day in the heat. Creaking wood and shifting nails echoed dully through the halls and rooms. My son’s gentle breathing and dreaming body rolled slightly under the oppressive darkness of his room.

And there I was, lying in the cool emptiness of night waiting for my turn. For my body to settle down and fall asleep.

Tight skin and muscles, bones and flushing blood, my body was humming slightly, unable to quiet down for the night. Picking up the slightest noise from outside my window, my ears piqued and listened intently to the solid footsteps of someone trying to sneak by without disturbing anyone. They tried in vain to step lightly through the street, making their way toward the community dumpster. My high strung senses followed each step, each turn.

The minutes ticked by and sleep evaded me still. I rolled and situated my long form in the coldest spots on the bed, soaking in the cool air and soft sheets against my too hot skin. Not long after, the spot I was in warmed to my body temperature and it was time to seek out a cooler place. Navigating the large bed and the tangle bed covers, I squirmed and moved about till I found my body in the shadows, cool and comfortable.

My eyes closed and I hoped for sleep. I let my mind settle into its nest, waiting for that shift in thought, when things stopped making sense and I drifted away into a world of disjointed thoughts and feelings. Beckoning the dreams and cloudy numbness of sleep, my limbs began to sink into the pillow top and my eyes drooped heavier.

I yawned, silently and smoothly stretching beneath the blankets and heavy exhaustion, feeling the night drain me of my energy. I was tired and only hoping for sleep. Opening my eyes just slightly, I strained to see into the dark, to feel out for a presence with me there. But I was alone. Cool and still against my bed, I was on my own.

No one was there to comfort me and help ease me into sleep. No warm limbs or body to press against. My bed, my life, was my own.

I was alone.

Closing my eyes again, I settled into the arms of the darkness and rested. My brain turned over and my thoughts dulled. Sounds around me faded into the background and I felt sleep nestle over me, soothing me.

And I slept.


Them bones, they ache.

All weary and sore.

Dragging, yet still…

always on the move.

Always going, never ceasing.

Always tired and thirsty for sleep.

Rest is for the weak, them says.

If only I had a week to rest, says the traveler.

I am worn down and in need of care.

Only the weary falter and stay, them says.

You want to show your feebleness?

A sigh. Shoulders droop. Listless the traveler answers.

No, so I’ll be on my way.

My bones, how they ache.

Always tired and thirty for rest.