Four thirty two in the a.m., sleep eludes me yet once again. The wind outside is blowing hard, whipping the trees around. Rain pounds inconsistently against my window. A young rooster learning to crow sounds like someone pleading for help. Scares me at first until I realize what it is I am hearing. Late January yet the weather behaves like April. Is it the confusion in nature that keeps me awake? The unbalance in the air. I do feel a pressure waiting a release in my head.

I feel very tired but hard as I try my eyes will not stay closed. Do I sense unconsciously something is amiss? Am I so out of touch with nature that I have lost my instincts?
Do I worry too much about what is happening on the other side of the world? Something I have no control over. Am I worrying about what tomorrow is going to bring? I have to stay awake to see it’s arrival.

Could it be that I simply do not want to go to bed? Alone. Again. Except for my puppy and cat who are sleeping soundly. So confident I will protect them from harm, they have no problem nodding off.

Rain is again beating the window. Tapping it’s melancholy song. Driving rain wetting an already saturated soil.
Though it is raining the temperature is still a mild sixty two degrees. Odd for late January. I suppose I could wake up tomorrow to sleet or a frozen world.

If I had to be somewhere tomorrow I would be anxious about my lack of sleep, but as it is I can sleep tomorrow away if I want to. If it continues to rain that is probably what I will do. The world I know will be up to keep me safe.

The rooster is trying to crow again and I wonder why he isn’t sleeping. The sound is eerily mixed with the downpour. Something you might read about in a murder mystery. “The rooster crows before morning”, or something along that line.

I glance at the cat on the table beside me, smiling in her sleep. Content. The puppy on the floor beside my bed, all stretched out. No worries there. He hasn’t lived long enough to have worries.

One of my earliest memories is of my mom and my aunt sitting on the front porch steps talking. I was with them. I was only two, but I remember hearing them talking and not understanding a word they said. I was content watching a bumble bee buzz around me. I knew I was safe. I had no trouble getting to sleep then.

Five twenty in the a.m., I suppose I should give it another try. Put my burdens away for another day and hopefully dream of simpler times in my life.

Maybe when we get older we just know too much. The aches and pains of life take their toll. When we try to rest it takes hold because we are distracted by what we feel we must get done that day. Or maybe…. I just think too much.

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