I've been having trouble sleeping lately, which isn't something that normally happens to me. Usually I'm so tired that I nod off around the end of whatever 10:00-11:00 show on television we happen to be watching; or I find myself reading the same line in a student's paper over and over and over again until my eyes blur. By then I'm usually so sleepy that I'm out by the time my head hits the pillow. But it's summer now. We've been staying up later, and enjoying the extra sleep-in time in the morning. I'm just not tired the way I usually am at the end of the day. The news lately hasn't made sleep any easier to get, either. This is what I tell myself during the day. But at night. in that vulnerable window of time when I lie there in the dark, laid open and made bare to the darker parts of my world, that's when worry finds me. It seeps into my mind, and finds its way through the cracks.
I worry about harm coming to my children
I worry about the news, and the unfathomable things happening near and far
I worry about the future and the world we live in and the how my children will make their way through it
I worry about my job
I worry about family members far away
I worry about the start of the new school year
I worry about the fragile, precious, vulnerable parts of my children
I worry about how I can't protect those parts, not really, certainly not all of the time
I worry about L., and his future
I worry about that alter-future of L.'s that is out there; the one we don't want to look at face-on. It's dark and frightening and may not even exist. Or it might
I worry about middle school, and will he make it?
Will it be break him? Will it be a turning point?
Will T. adjust to her new school? Will she make friends?