Sleep.2

I am in bed reading a book. After I left the bed and sleep so reluctantly this morning, I am now equally reluctant to get here and give in to sleeping. Just one more page. Partner breathes slowly next to me, his body warm and familiar against mine. I try not to flop around too much so I don’t wake him, but I have to shift the book from time to time so my hand doesn’t fall asleep. I like to read in bed, because it’s quiet. But also because in bed, I can hold the book close enough to my face that I don’t need to wear my glasses.

My granddad used to tell me that reading without my glasses for a few minutes every day would make my eyes stronger. I think about this every time I put down my glasses and pick up a book. I don’t know whether granddad’s advice was reasonable, but it’s a caring little bit of him that is always with me. 

I know, as I turn the page that I should be sleeping. Just one more chapter. Section. Page. I know that it will feel good to turn out the light and squeeze myself closer to Partner. I know that the warm blankets will feel good on my cool arms, but I savor this silent aloneness for a few more minutes. This quiet buffer between the business of my day and the oblivion of sleep.