Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep (person)
See all of Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
, no other writeups in this node.
Thu Oct 05 2000 at 3:50:41
When I was little I spent a lot of time
trying to sleep, unable to
. Eyes clenched, working myself into a fret over possibilities -
, never being able to sleep ever again. I learned to worry early. My mother knew, and came to sit on the edge of my bed.
I am planting a garden
, she would say.
Her fingernails scratch light circles all over my back. I am
plowing up the dirt
in my garden. I am making it nice and loose so that good things can grow in it.
She rakes her nails, hard but
not too hard
, from my neck, over the shoulderblade hills, down to the small of my back. I am digging the rows in my garden. What should I plant?
It feels so good I am already close to drowsy, at least less painfully alert. Ice cream, I say into my pillow.
Ok. Ice cream. Ice cream ice cream ice cream
ice cream ice cream
. She plants ice cream with little twisty fingertip taps. All the way down the first row. What else should I plant in my garden?
Peanut butter cookies. I have been a fool for peanut butter cookies since I could gum them into bits. Ok.
Peanut butter cookies
peanut butter cookies peanut butter cookies.
Daisies. Seven-Up. Chicken soup the kind Gramma Sara makes with the little stars in it. Legos. These are all old choices.
Sometimes I try to surprise my mother
with a new one, like hundred dollar bills or baby brothers. She is maybe amused but never surprised. She is the one who surprises me. I always think This will be the night
she does not know how much I need this.
Or Tonight she will get sick of it and hurry through the garden. But she never once sighs or says That's enough now just go to sleep. She sits by me, her hands warm on my back, until I am safe in dreams. She surprises me every time.
I like it!
she does not know how much I need this
Through this warm electricity I will give you bark branches and leaves curling upward into a safe sky
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
I kissed her in the hair
The anti-insomnia powers of a 4 door with a large back seat
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
3 A.M. Eternal
This bridge that is my back
Come here, you feet
So says the preacher man, but... I don't go by what he says
Mozilla Everything2 Search Plugin
Sitting next to strangers who fall asleep by me for no reason. Trusting rhythm. An odd intimacy, train trips.
White pepper ice cream
My hands on her back; slipping into sleep
I don't care. I like who I am because of it.
Flesh and blood after all: part 3
The boy who spoke with the sky
I might fall into good sleep like swimming
Letters from my mother
The TADS at Shenanigans
have given my heart away just as carelessly and as meticulously planned as ever
A House for Hermit Crab
the mountain of truth
attach yourself to small things, for the world is large and you must start somewhere
Webster 1913 is a fake
The Book of Books
Figure 2.1 The Statistical Value of Human Life
You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs
Some of us are immune to HIV
Sts. Cyril and Methodius Church
the mountain of truth
October 21, 2020
The Pi FAQ
Beyond the suns that guard this roost
what has a thousand eyes, a thousand fangs, a thousand wings and a thousand claws
Jack's Pit Stop
Everything2 ™ is brought to you by Everything2 Media, LLC. All content copyright © original author unless stated otherwise.