So far this morning I have made coffee, drunk coffee, and spilled coffee. None of these fine activities has helped me write a single word. I’m slowly accepting the sad fact that coffee is not the answer.
My tired brain is telling me that I need a nap. I haven’t been up long enough to justify a nap, though. I save napping for the afternoon, when my body demands either sleep or cookies. For now, I have to stay awake and keep watch over my granddaughter.
She’s still asleep in the other room after a late night. She couldn’t settle, couldn’t sleep, so we stayed awake together watching Martha Speaks. She told me it was okay if I wanted to sleep. She’d be fine with Martha, as long as I stayed nearby. She held my hand, chatting occasionally about the show, until the battery ran down, and I convinced her to try closing her eyes again.
Now she sleeps, while I sit here with my coffee and computer, wishing I could close my eyes, knowing I can’t let myself fall asleep now. I fed the cat, opened the curtains, let in the morning. I’m dressed and sitting upright, ready to begin her morning routine as soon as she stirs. She’ll need breakfast and her morning meds. She needs help with other things we take for granted. I’m on call.
And soon that call will come. “Nana!” One word yelled that says, “Where are you? Come quick! I need you here.” Hearing that, I won’t need coffee anymore, or that nap. I’ll leave my computer, forget about writing, let my coffee go cold. In the moment, fully awake, she’s all that matters.