Quiet now and someone left the lights on. Noticed it when I woke up for the bathroom. Maybe Andy had gotten up for some orange juice, left the light on again. She likes the sugar at night. I hate when the lights get left on. I like sleeping in places where I don’t know how many steps from bed to door, three steps out past the staircase and a right into the bathroom careful to miss the towel rack. I like it when I crash into things, makes me feel like I’m on vacation. But the lights are on now and here I am.
Summer park today and it was so hot I couldn’t focus. The temperature gets up there and suddenly it becomes the woman crying at the end of early color films. “But when will I ever see you again?” the trees say to me as I hold their lower back and they faint in my arms.
“Andy?” I said as she was drinking out of the container. “Why are you up?”
“Needed a drink,” she said. “Couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams. Too hot. Have a lot of things on my mind. Couldn’t sleep.”
And of all the ailments one could have, even a blend of everything that makes a night sleepless, I find myself with no excuses. It’s not that I can’t sleep, I can. It’s just that I am not currently sleeping.
“Why are you up?” She says.
“It’s always the transition that gets me.”