I've been sleeping in my office again. I'm not sleeping well at night and I thought I'd try the daybed again. I mean, it's got a great mattress and is right by a window, so win for the back and win for the hot flashes.
But I really haven't slept there since you left...
Like everything else, it's strange. When I slept there before, the french doors stood open, and the whoosh of the ventilator and sigh of the concentrator played in the background. There wasn't much light, but there was always a little from your pulse/ox.
And of course, you...
It was a game we played. Could I remove your toys enough that you wouldn't grab them and wake me up?
Now the french doors are closed to keep the cold night air from freezing the rest of the house, and I have slept better than in my own (normal) bed, but still...
It's quiet. No noise. No lights.
Just my memories of you there.
And a faint whisper of your laugh...
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