couldn't sleep last night.  i got out of bed, made a sandwich, watched some of gosford park (which isn't the easiest movie to get into at one in the morning), and then went back to bed.  even after that i couldn't fall off.  i just laid in bed for a long time, an arm draped over lindsay before rolling over onto my side, then rolling over again and holding her and back and forth and back and forth.  i listened to her sleeping, her shallow breathing, remembering some book (something wicked this way comes?) where it said about how at two in the morning, you're closer to dead than alive, listening.  it was amazing, to be honest.  i didn't want to go to sleep, just wanted to lay there forever.

she had to get up for work at five-thirty, so here i am, awake as well.  i laid in bed for roughly an hour this morning, but it was just last night all over again.  finally, i sigh and get out of bed.  now here i am, telling you about it.

there are times
(when i hear the laughter of the rain)
(when i see my dog grin)
(when i feel your breath on my shoulder)
(when i taste the ocean's salt)
(when i touch my lips to my mother's cheek)
when i think
that everything
might
turn out
all right.