It’s not that I’m dependent on Dick’s presence for my sense of well-being or anything. It’s just that I can’t sleep when he’s not here. Not that I want him anywhere near me in bed (when I’m sleeping–that’s what body pillows are for). How do women with traveling husbands (esp. military wives) or single parents do it?
We’ve had our windows open for the past week, since that Nor’easter blew cooler weather all the way down to Florida. And our neighborhood has been extremely quiet the past month (well, until that drug deal I saw this morning while driving Sally to school). But the past two nights, I’ve heard arguments and a few shootings (is it, technically, a “shooting,” if the gun is just aimed up in the air for fun?).
Last night the wind blew my bedroom door shut, and I was startled awake, heart pounding. I finally overcame my cowardice to go check on the girls and make sure everything was still secure. I don’t like feeling that I am it. I like being able to roll over, punch Dick in the arm, shake him, pinch his nose till he wakes up (he’s pretty narcoleptic) and tell him to go investigate.
And he didn’t even call me yesterday. Maybe he is lying dead somewhere in the street. Maybe he was kidnapped by alien Canadians intent on interrogating him about podcasting (get it, “pod” casting?).
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I’m sorry about the problems in our neighborhood. I wish you and the little girls could be here in Vancouver with me. We would have a lot of fun in this city.
I manage to sleep by keeping awake until I approach the last ounce of consciousness and my mind goes numb. Then when I close my eyes it’s quickly lights out for Tom. I wish you were beside me, even with all your surrounding pillows.