The Sandman's Fairie Dust

Remember when you could sleep anytime you wanted? Anywhere you were? Our lives were uncluttered, and therefore our minds were uncluttered. The sandman would sprinkle a little of his magic fairie dust in our eyes, we'd yawn twice, and ZZZZZZZ... It was as simple as that.

For years, decades actually, I didn't sleep more than four hours a night. I'd crumble into bed exhausted, snuggle into the folds of my down comforter and let my head melt into the pillow. aaahhhh... sleep, blessed sleep. A deep sigh. And then it would start. My junkyard of a mind, that seemed shackled to the day's stresses, would begin frantically sprinting from one disjointed thought to another and I would lie there for what seemed to be centuries listening to my bones decay and my brain matter turn into slumgullion. A lack of sleep doesn't do anything particularly nice for a woman's face, or her body for that matter. And we don't even want to start to discuss what flopping like a dying fish from ten p.m. til 3:00 a.m. does for her creativity. It was usually about three that I'd slip into slumber... just long enough to feel like sludge when I'd wake up at 4:15 feeling a definite, bordering on urgent, need to pee. I'd regularly stub my toe on the book that fell off the bed, or trip over the shoes kicked carelessly from my feet, and grope for the ladies room. Mission accomplished... I'd feel my way back to bed. About now, I'd be dizzy with wanting to sleep... I'd surround myself with the warmth and solace of bed, reach out to feel Wayne's broad shoulders beside me, and shut my eyes feeling comforted and secure. And then, the hotflashes would start. Covers off, covers on... flop to my right side, flop to the left, ...covers off, covers on. And so it would go until about 7:00 a.m. when at last, I'd sink into the dark goodnight. Until 7:45 when the alarm clock would scratch it's noisy wake up call. Fortunately, I've been an extremely high energy person my entire life, and I've always loved morning... so I didn't grump at the kids while eating breakfast too often. But, I'm pretty sure I have a dozen or so more wrinkles than I should have.

But then one day, while out for a drive to no where in particular, we stumbled across the Hollow. The owner was just nailing a For Sale sign to the gate as we drove down the lane. We stopped, walked the grounds, and wrote out an offer to purchase on the spot. In less than a month we had moved onto the property. It was like an intravenous drip of Ambien.

I don't carry a lot of stress these days. My hubby is very easy to live with. My profession is generally rewarding and fun, and something I could walk away from any time I chose. My children are doing well... okay, maybe not all of them, but three out of four ain't bad. And the fourth one is improving and doing better with each sunrise. Each of them is a joy to me. I love living at the Hollow. It isn't perfect, but it is everything we need, and that is enough. I've been surprised since moving into such a tiny home just how much we can live without. I am at peace. There are still some nights when I don't sleep. But it's usually because I want to write, or make beaded bookmarks, or sculpt a Santa face, or take a ridiculously long shower and meditate. I am like a child again. I sleep when I need to, wherever I am. Life is uncluttered. The sandman may not work his magic with his fairie dust any longer, but I take a hot shower or sip a glass of hot milk and ZZZZZZZZ. It's as simple as that.

Life is delicious!