Late-Night Stream of Consciousness

Sometimes in the middle of the night, my mind chatters so loudly, that it nearly drowns out the shush of air through vents and the rhythmic breathing of my true love, stretched peacefully beside me. Tonight I rolled over and opened my iPhone, reading soothing white text on black to avoid the waking glare of light for those still sleeping. They were words that soothed my heart and calmed my soul.

I think about all of the changes, choices, decisions, blessings, opportunities, and challenges ahead. I think of life, and after watching a detailed documentary on the Glacier deaths in the 70s, I also think of death and how it makes life so much more precious. I think of feeling materially secure, and I think of how easily things can change and have changed for so many around us. I think of holidays and years gone by, of pajamas and pulsing colored Christmas tree lights. I think of work, and how much I have left to do, and that I now have one day left in which to do it. 

I think of being true to myself, even when it's the hard thing to do. I think of trust and how rare it has become in this world. I think of C singing pop songs to the birds in the kitchen as they sing along with loud and happy voices, and I wonder how I wrangled that slice of heaven out of the spaghetti bowl of turmoil in my life. 

I think (oddly enough) of how amazing the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints must be to be so positive when Broadway musicals are produced about them that contain so many half-truths, candy-coated lies, and fictitious scenarios billed as fact. I think about how I can be more positive like that, and try to make the best out of challenging or difficult situations. 

I think about trying to work over the weekend and holiday to get everything done I need to, and how much I really want to garden instead. I think about how it will probably rain, so I shouldn't count on gardening anyway. I think about the boys at the lake with a BB gun and a slingshot, trying to hit the graceful Night Heron, and finding a male mallard trying to revive his mate who was never going to wake up again. I think about the days and weeks to come, and the work that shouldn't be work, but is because society demands it. 

I think about sleep, and how I wish my eyelids would grow heavy and my mind would grow quiet so that I could finally fall fast asleep. And then I think about hitting Publish Post without looking for typos because at midnight typos are inevitable, but then I think I don't really care, and suddenly I can hear the shush of the air through the vents again, and the storm of percolating thoughts has slowed to a gentle trickle at last. I think about cinnamon toast and warm milk. At last, having purged all of the sleep-destroying thoughts from my mind, I know that tomorrow I need to get a loaf of bread so that the next time I get the urge to make cinnamon toast, I will be able to do so.