sleepless

it's a dark and stormy night and i can't sleep with the driving wind and the sound of rain battering the window beside the bed. i listen to the stove beep off and back on several times, a sign that power may soon go out, and i get up to draw some water into the kettle so it will be there in the morning for coffee. out the window, the wind bends the lilac and blows leaves horizontally, a sure end to foliage season.

i light a beeswax votive, contemplate and quickly dismiss the idea of a cup of tea at this late hour, and i settle into the wingback chair to try to read a little. the quilt around my bare feet soon warms me and my head sinks into the left hand wing where it always rests now when i read. this is gladys taber, a writer from another era who lived by the sea. her writing reminds me of my mother and her mother before her, and of quieter, simpler times in our world. eventually, as they always do, her words bring me to a calm and peaceful place, far from the night's raging storm and far from the storms that have raged for years. and i blow out the candle, lest i fall asleep sitting right there.