Laying in Bed

She lies awake, waiting. Waiting for ideas, thoughts, solutions that never arrive. Waiting for a new plan, one that will work this time. Waiting for her to apologize, to appear with watery eyes and to say that she wants to try another time.

She lays there, traveling. Through space and especially through time. Back to somewhere when she felt steady in her place, on her feet. Before she needed to ask for apologies or wait for new plans to appear. Maybe then she would’ve been able to create ideas rather than prepare for their arrival, to find people to help her stay where she needed to be and who didn’t make her lie there awake, waiting.

She lays there, remembering. The sand between her toes and salty air sharp in her nose. She remembers how her smile looked through pictures, moments in time saved for later, and how she wasn’t yet concerned with how it or she looked. The water was cold, but the sun made the sand warm. She could lie out on the sand and zero thoughts would appear, just a quiet buzz. A buzz of feelings, of the warm sand and the disappearing cold from the water, of blissful exhaustion from energy spent on joy.

She lays there, awake. But not for much longer. For her travels and remembering has slowed down, has re-approached where she lays. She no longer waits for thoughts, the thoughts appear. She thinks of her day, of where she lays, of where she’ll be in the morning. She thinks of the warmth, the comfort, and she feels bliss. And then, she lays there, asleep.

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