Write.

Not like, “Or else.”  Or, “write, dammit!”  Just tell a little story with what you’ve got left, which isn’t much. Last night I was truly flattened. You’d know if you read my previous post.

My syndrome was the same as an over-tired child:  I became restless and flopped around unable to go to sleep.  I ached.  I tried to turn the thought switch off.  I tried a snack.

Then the text message chimed on my phone by the bed stand. It was from a bff who said:

I am sending you fluffy sweet clouds to take you away from any earthbound weariness.  They [work] are so lucky to have you – just like the men were        love you.

I wrote back, “Thanks soo much!  I am too tired to sleep [how did she know??] but now will wrap up in those clouds and drift into sweet rest. [insert little emoji fluffy clouds here].

Perfect.  What fragrance would you like.  I can have the clouds lightly scented in no time.  P.S. a big glass of port is not a fragrance, but is also available.

Hmm.  Lavender would be lovely.

On the way my dear one.  Yum.

Thank you.  That downward earth pull is losing effect.  Lovely.  You’re the best.

I began to enjoy the fluff of my comforter and the white wool blanket.  I nestled in and relaxed.  Finally all those unfinished conversations from the after school pd and the strange encounters of the day ceased to interest me.  I stopped trying to figure anything out.  In fact, from the cloud perspective it all kind of drifted into shape and made sense.

I sank into sleep; my dreams peopled with events in strange places, but I got a robust snooze.

Mid morning today – as I was subbing in a third grade classroom instead of getting my work done– one more text.  She reminded me to grace those kiddos with my gifts.  Heart, heart, heart.

Whew, I’m through the hardest part of a super busy week.  Going out with a bang, not a whimper.  Clouds.  Imagery.

 

 

 

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