Domino... aka Nighttime at Our House
Tuesday, March 19, 2013 at 12:12 PM 
One word—“Mom”—reaches out of the velvety night like cream pouring from fine china. “I’m home.”
The words break the silence of slumber and I gently turn over to settle back in as the body next to me stirs.
Movement begins where only seconds before there was stillness.
A cough. A grumble. He tosses back the covers and stumbles toward the hallway.
Downstairs a door opens and closes. I can’t tell if they are coming or going.
Who’s in the house? How many? I don’t feel alarm… only wakefulness.
The cat stirs. Someone pushes the button on the microwave and suddenly my olfactory senses kick into high gear.
The cloak of night remains, but my mind has shifted into day-like watchfulness.
“Please turn on the therapy fan,” I ask my sleepwalking partner.
The whir registers and joins the mid-night symphony—quiet movements reverberating like crashing symbols.
Another figure appears in our doorway, waves and drifts back down the stairs.
Sleep eludes me. My choice? Poetry or frustration. I choose the former and so…
as my housemates drop profoundly into slumber… my mind spins and sorts words and phrases, promising to remember the beauty my half awake muse is prompting;
knowing all the while it will be long forgotten by the time the crickets on my iPhone begin to chirp their morning call.
Personal Reflection, Poetry
Reader Comments (1)
Oh, this is SUCH a good picture you've painted - the could "feel" every sound you reflected:) xo