Broken Sleep

by Penny Nolte

Oh, I go to bed at the usual time, open a window, turn on the nightlight, and the noise machine. Before drifting off. But then, sometime between two and four, I wake up. Wide awake. Not startled, or hungry, or needing to use, “the little room,” as my family euphemistically says.

Wide awake, ready for the day, I hold my phone to light the stairs so that I won’t draw attention to myself. And shuffle into the front room, directly under the bedroom, where my old, blind, kitty will sense me and meow a little greeting. “It’s ok, buddy, not time to get up, yet,” I’ll say, as he settles back down on his warm wool rug, purring.

I might read for a while, or make tea. As long as I’m up. But then, the words on the page will blur and my head become so heavy I tip over, stretching the length of the couch which is a little shorter than I am. With my head and feet propped up on its armrests, I float away. Back to dreamland.

I read somewhere that, centuries ago, there used to be a thing called, “second sleep,” when people got up during the night, hung out together, had meals even. Then they went back to bed. Maybe they had to stoke their fires or something, I don’t know, but if second sleep has any purpose for me it seems to be to visit the cat.

And that’s ok.

Bio: Penny Nolte is an author, artist, and educator creating gentle narratives of family and place. After a decades-long pause from storytelling, her newest work is beginning to appear in print and online. Originally from upstate New York, with a fortifying decade in Colorado, Penny now calls the Green Mountains of Vermont home.