I read to Sonja. Bedtime was not bedtime without a chapter or two from The Hobbit. It was one of her dad’s favorite books and now she was enraptured by it too. She devoured it when she was eight- all on her own, and even now, at ten, she still enjoyed hearing passages read out loud as she drifted off to sleep.
I always waited to hear her little snores before I turned the light off and went back to my room. There was no rush for me to get to bed. Insomnia had plagued me since Eric died last year. I don’t like pills and I just can’t seem to shut down my mind and sleep.
Everybody has a suggestion, but I never actually asked for them. People feel like they have to help the widow and sometimes the widow would prefer to be left alone. I’m not an ingrate, but what I need from life now is different from what other people think I need. It is hard to explain that without coming off as rude and I have moments, more often these days, when I simply don’t care how it appears.
© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.
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