Wide Awake

Wide awake, staring at my pillow in the dark. The ceiling fan buzzes, going 'round and 'round. The air conditioner blows cool air at the bed.

Wide awake, feeling guilty about leaving Trudy and Ben and the pets and their gifts and their cards out of my story -- the gifts and cards that brought tears to my eyes.

Wide awake, wishing that I'd tended to the backyard better, certain that it will be a jungle in two weeks' time. Wishing that I'd watered the front yard deeper, hoping that it will still be there after the brutal sun has had its way.

Wide awake, thinking about the Supreme Court and eminent domain and whether the city fathers might decide that this is a good place for a mall someday.

Wide awake, with echoes of Senator Durbin's courageous words on the floor of the Senate and of his blubbering backtracking several days later.

What good is it to go to bed at a decent hour when in the wee hours of the morning I end up finding myself wide awake?

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