Tuesday night. I'm laying in my bed wide awake, still feeling the after effects of the caffeine-laced Excedrin, coffee, and soda I pumped myself full of today in an attempt to quell a migraine. By now, the pain in my head has calmed a bit, but my mind is still racing. The caffeine works pretty well, if you don't mind being all tweaky during your book-writin' meeting (sorry Jourdan) and piano lessons with children. At least I had the most insane kids today - they didn't seem to notice my darting eyes and constant fidgeting.
This evening, my father's thoughts travel aloud over the phone, brainstorming various things to look into and discussing different doctors I could see; an ENT doctor, or a sinus specialist. Maybe get a CT-scan of my head. I listen passively and in my head acknowledge that, although he makes an excellent point, I know exactly what I'd like to look into: the writing, meditation, and yoga I was practicing so regularly just a year ago. The routine of clearing my mind, relaxing and alone time, and especially silence. That was the most calm my mind has been in awhile. An anxious and obsessive mind like this one really needs regular practice most of all. Even just to go to sleep.
Although I know I should lay in bed with closed eyes and relaxed jaw and shoulders, silently chanting my sleep reminder (deep breath in - say "sleep." Deep breath out - say "sleep." It has worked every time I've wholeheartedly tried it. For real.), instead my hands absently wander behind my pillow to the headboard shelf where my phone sits. The phone with which I can look on facebook to check if Gina has had a baby yet. She was due two weeks ago and was prepared to induce today. "Just wait," a little voice says somewhere in my brain. "You can find out in the morning." About ten seconds after I heed the voice, another one sounds off, stronger and louder. "Hey! Go peek in the kitchen and see if the amaryllis has blossomed yet!" My bare feet are on the floor without hesitation and I tiptoe to my bedroom door and look around the corner. No. Not blooming yet. Same as it was 40 damn minutes ago when I checked it before I first tried to settle down for the night.
Seriously, Reem? You're peeking on a flower at 1 am? Go to sleep. Sleep now. Sleep (in) sleep (out) sleep (in) sleep (out). Breathe. Miyagi-style.
This amaryllis has been slowly growing for about 3 weeks and I've been noticing small changes in it every day. I've had nothing but patience for it for those weeks, but suddenly now that I know it could blossom any day, I'm watching it like a hawk. Obsessively. In the middle of the night when I should be trying to sleep. Watched pot, right? I remind myself to be patient, that beautiful things like babies and flowers will come around when they're meant to. And that I can just sit back and relax this mind and wait. And wait and wait.
And following that reminder of patience, just two short days later, I have a beautiful flower in my kitchen...
...and Gina and Patrick have a beautiful baby. Happy Birthday, Aidan Antonio!
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