I woke up in the middle of the night. The house was dark, quiet. I squinted over at the alarm clock (can't see a thing without my glasses.) It was 2:35 a.m.
I slid out of bed, my bare feet padding across the wood floorboards, kind of chilly in the house this time of night. Went to the bathroom to pee. Got a drink of water, my soft gulping seeming too loud in the deep quiet of the house.
I did what I always do when I wake up in the middle of the night: went in to check on Liv. The back porch light sliced through a crack in her frothy white window curtains and came to rest across her shoulders. She was deeply asleep, laying curled up on her side, one of her feet sticking out of her Zippy the monkey sheets and patchwork quilt. I took her foot in my hand. It was like a little ice cube. I tucked it back in under the covers, knowing that within minutes, it would be out again. But still.
Liv's breathing was deep and even, her light brown hair sifting across the pillowcase. I leaned down to kiss her cheek. She stirred just a little, a half smile forming across her face, her fingers scratching across her sheets.
I glided out to the kitchen and opened the blinds a little to peer outside into the back yard. The yard was too dark to see rabbits, but I knew they were out there, casually munching, hopping around in the slim moonlight.
By this time, I was getting cold. I sleep in a plain white princess slip and my sleeveless arms were beginning to raise goosebumps, my legs felt chilled.
I headed back to the bedroom. It was darker in there, our heavy curtains shutting out most of the light from the front porch and street lamps. I felt my way back to the bed and slipped in next to Bing, who had meandered over to my side as she always does when I leave the bed for even a moment. She is a heavy sleeper, but something in her knows to scoot back over to her side. Our sheets are a deep forest green and my side of the bed is warm from her body. It is only a full sized bed. On my crankier days, I want a bigger bed. On other, sweeter days, I like sleeping so close together.
Tonight, I cuddle as close to her as I can, warming my legs next to hers, turning on my left side and putting my chin on the tip of her shoulder.
"I love you," I whisper.
She doesn't awaken, but murmurs a bit of a dream. Says something like, "I don't know where that part is. It seems to be missing a piece. But, that tune is kind of nice..."
She teaches computers during the day and gives piano lessons in our basement at night. She often tells me that her dreams are full of computer terms and percussion. I've caught her smack dab in the middle of her dreams.
"Don't worry," I whisper. "You'll find it..."
I stretch out my calf muscles and settle back into my pillow, loving the fact that I still have another 3 hours of sleep left. Comfortable and warm in my nest, I drift back to sleep, thinking briefly before I drift off that I need to buy some eggs on the way home from taking Liv to school the next morning...Liv has been on a scrambled egg kick all week for breakfast.
Sleep comes gently in this peaceful, quiet, happy house.