Sleep Comes Like a Drug in God's Country

I wish to extol the virtues of sleep, the golden drug.

Linking worlds, sleep brings visions and ecstasies. Through the miracle of sleep we close our eyes and open them somewhere else, at least in the hidden eye of the mind. Symbol and myth steep our very essence and become revealed in sleep. Perhaps it matters not that the stories shown in dreams usually don't make it into the waking state; they are no less active for that, they still re-write the cartography of our souls.

Yet as a new parent, it is not dreams I seek in my sleep, nor revelations. I merely desire, with every fiber of my being, to sleep for more than an hour at a stretch. I only want to sink into my bed and arise refreshed to meet the frantic demands of my two-week-old daughter. My pillow has become my fantasy. My body and my soul yearn for rest.

And last night my sweet, cranky daughter granted me the gift of sleep. I am immensely grateful and find myself rejuvenated, able to face a writing project I've been dreading, and even pondering cooking something for dinner beyond hotdogs or pizza. The constant feedings demanded by little E.'s growth spurt seem less overwhelming, laundry is not insurmountable, and a bath a distinct possibility.

I never appreciated sleep before now. I think my appreciation shall continue to grow as I tread the path of parenthood. I know there will be many more sleepless nights, but right now I'm simply thankful for one good night of rest.

Thanks, E.!