remembering when I was three or four, old enough to remember and yet somehow young enough to still sleep in a crib, and yet old enough to be kind of an asshole at that (and many other) moment(s).

one night, when I was three or four, in the crib, parents watching something on tv, in black and white because that’s what there was and something something wanting to watch it too and them and they telling me it’s time for bed and me, all, really?  I don’t think so.  apparently I threaten to jump out of the crib and I do and nothing happens except that they’re so aggravated they take all the coats out of the closets and leave them on the floor around the crib and invite me to jump again.

which I do not do

mom, who is not an asshole is having trouble with sleeping - has been staying up late reading the paper and then sleeping through much of the morning and is aware and connected but then not as aware and not as connected and has clearer days and less clear days and slept most of this morning, when I wasn’t quite ready to work and then woke up and wasn’t really settled for very long.  generally, she’ll read the sunday paper all day and we’ll chat, I’ll come into the kitchen from the sitting room, but work there for much of the day when i have to work.

but is wasn’t happening today. 

ended up sitting with her for most of the day; a kind friend came by in the afternoon with roasted sweet potatoes and lemon cake and raisin walnut bread and visited for a bit.  i cooked dinner, mom went to bed a little after 8:30.

but not to sleep. and as i was sitting with her and sitting with her and losing my shit about work to be done, a recommendation to write, and realizing how odd my priorities are, and a kid is sending a document for comment and and and and i’m in tears because she’s so present and so somewhere else and I don’t know how to pull her back.

I realize how much time and energy and love I sucked from this woman’s life; how much time she gave to her own two parents and I wonder how I can help her, keep her safe. give her even any of the all of what she’s given me.

how do I ever love her sufficiently?  the moments when she knows that she doesn’t know shatter me to bits.

she sounds almost asleep.  but only almost.