Sunday, September 30, 2012

Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

Dear John,
It's 2 AM, and I'm awake, and it's the dog's fault. We got to bed at 11:00. Then he woke me up at 12:30 to go out., and I couldn't get back to sleep. I was having akathesia - you know, that nasty restless-leg-all-over-your-body feeling that we fibromites are prone to in the wee hours of the morning. So I took Benadryl, got a piece of raisin bread, and decided I might as well sit up until it got better, since lying down was just making it worse. So I was sitting here playing solitaire on the Kindle, with the dog asleep beside me, upside down with his legs all up in the air. Then I heard a bird singing outside.
 I don't know what kind of bird it was, but it was singing a beautiful, clear, high-pitched song at 2 in the morning. Listening to that bird was wonderful. I have no idea why, but listening to it made me glad to be alive for the first time in many months. Maybe it reminds me of something; there seems to be something back there in my memory, just out of conscious reach. Gulls in the hour before sunrise at Mackinac? Birds when I was a child? I don't know, but there is joy and an irrepressible optimism in that bird's song. It has an exuberance to it - the kind you feel when you're young and your whole life is ahead of you, and you are certain that the future holds wonderful things.
The bird made me feel, just for a little while, that my future held good things. It had a bubbly joy that was contagious. I feel lighter than I have in a long time, and hopeful. Maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel - and maybe it isn't an oncoming train. You know how sorry I've been to be alive. It's not ingratitude; I'm grateful for so much: the beauty of sunrise, the leaves turning, the birds at the feeders, the people who love me, that turquoise is finally back in fashion. The only thing I haven't been grateful for is life. But while I listened to the bird, I felt a joy in living that I haven't felt in a long time.
That's all. I just had to tell you that. The Benadryl is helping the akathesia, and I will try to go back to sleep now. And I may go to sleep with a smile on my face.
Love you so much,
PS - My mind just turned up Blackbird: Blackbird singing in the dead of night / take your broken wings and learn to fly. / All you life you were only waiting for this moment to arise. (I don't care what Manson tried to do with it; there's some wonderful stuff on the White Album.) Good night, John. Sleep well.

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