You already know I sleep a lot more than usual.
Francisco, on the other hand, has become an insomniac.
Kind of imbues new meaning on the phrase from Neruda’s poem engraved on our wedding bands:
“toda la noche caminamos “we were sleepwalking all night long
durmiendo and we awoke,
y cuando despertamos you were intact and new.”
eras intacta y nueva…”
It’s been a strange time for both of us. Our custom–another ritual we never really discussed but just fell into–was always to go to bed together and wake up at the same time. Now, I awake in the middle of the night– 2 AM, 3:15, 4:30, even 6–and he’s still awake, writing, reading, steadily chipping away at Netflix’s extensive movie collection.
“I just can’t sleep,” he told me yesterday. “I worry all the time. About money. About finding a new apartment….” And the list went on and on.
And I realized that while I’ve been worried about those things too, they’re not really important in the bigger scheme of things. Lots of kids have been born and raised in smaller homes with far fewer resources. In the big picture of the world, we’re privileged and our child won’t really lack for anything that’s truly important.
I tried to explain this to Francisco, to give him the peace he needs to sleep. But still, in the middle of the night, I rolled over and found an empty space on his side of the bed.