NaPoWriMo #13

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Mid-April Book of Days, 2

I read the news before sleep and am so overcome with grief for a dead boy and his mother that I do not sleep.  I play a man reading a Borges story in my ear but refuse to listen. Finally, I take off my headphones and start down the stairs toward alpha waves, theta waves, sleep spindles.  On one of my rotations it occurs to me that my grief is for myself, having been abandoned in my own home, and I begin to wail soundlessly. 

*
In the morning I ready E for school and then put in earplugs, landing thump into deepest sleep, then emerging three hours later, a lady of the lake breaking the surface on her bier.  Stuck I am again, in this non-elegant world. 

*
At school pick up my small son walks up to a mom I am chatting with and socks her in the stomach.  I don’t know what he’s angry about.  Possibly my brain waves.  Possibly the shouting he heard from the other room.  Or maybe he’s just a very tired, very small boy.  

Hours later, I can feel it still, that unexpected contact of a little hand in someone else’s gut. 

*
He asks me if trees are nocturnal.  He talks to me on a soap walkie-talkie.  He recounts how his friend started punching him during recess and how he punched back.  How they were supposed to keep their hands to themselves, but how when the teacher turned her back, they did not.  

*
I write my brother for practical advice.  My brother makes me a spreadsheet in which he explains that I must be twice as practical as I’d imagined to go on with life on my own terms. 

My crown chakra wilts.  

He tells me to take a breather, and I do some alternate nostril breathing. 

The only thing that would cheer me up now is someone drawing a cartoon of me with a wilted crown chakra doing alternate nostril breathing while hunched over a spreadsheet. 

*
There is mention in the other room of the physics of whirlpools, of certain items manufactured through a process called extrusion. Finally there is silence and sleep.  

I wash my face and brush my teeth, make a cup of tea. I get in bed to answer some emails.  I hear a hoot owl not far from my window, and decide to step out onto the back steps to breathe alone.  By morning I’ve become quite still, my waves and chakras having settled.  I have, in fact, rejoined the earth.  A fine green dust covers me. 

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