flaksafdlkSome days, you just can’t. You’re too close to it. Too focused on a specific piece of it. Too tired. You see a design, and maybe even a pattern, but you just can’t read it. Or write it. So you take that old medicine: sleep. You go to bed, and wake up with a more helpful perspective. Maybe regain with the ability to arrange twenty-six symbols in fantastic ways.
It’s cricket weather again, and one is thrumming on the other side of the wall. It is comforting, now, before the insects start moving in, start dying on my kitchen floor. Crickets should be heard and not seen. This one is singing me to sleep.
Goodnight, cricket. Goodnight, alphabet.
A friend of mine can’t go to sleep without a ticking clock. Slows down her brain. Mbot needs his bear. I hear him telling himself stories. Gbot needs his sippy cup. I hear him sucking on it. My mother goes to sleep best if she’s thinking about a sewing problem, a puzzle of some sort. I need a writing conundrum. Its rhythms and repetitions pull me into sleep.
What sings you to sleep?