I'm not sleeping

It's one of those nights when there is nothing to do but write. My brain will not turn off, my heart will not stop pounding. I'm starving...for everything but especially sleep. So tired, right down to the marrow. We go to Somerset on Friday to visit my son. I hate those trips. I wish I could love them but I hate them. Tonight was beautiful, today was good. I spent time making some ridiculous and perfect creation out of graham crackers and royal icing with my 16-year-old, and we laughed-how we laughed at crackers falling and icing mess, candy and sprinkles everywhere. How her laugh and her voice are like mine, and how she seems to me a butterfly fluttering away too fast from the cocoon of home. These moments she alights on my arm I cannot hold, only remember. Dear God may they not go away too quickly. My grief is dissolving me tonight and I can't stay solid.

The air outside is fog-filled and our backyard is a murky swamp of light and shadow. There is no moon. I'm downstairs now, and upstairs the bed was never comfortable-my skin less so. Our little female cat nudged her muzzle under my hand and gave sandpaper licks. Her fur is so thick it feels like mink and comforts me, but I couldn't stay still. The clock reads 3 and something. I'm waiting for morning. I wish there was someone to talk to, something to read to keep my attention. All is waiting. Maybe I'll try sleep again.