It’s about 1, maybe 2 in the morning and I can’t go to sleep.
Maybe it’s because I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, and I’m just taking things day at a time. Or maybe it is because I am still contemplating whether or not the move 800 miles away from everything I’ve known, was worth it. The change in the scenery, or the fresh start, or whatever. There’s so much on my mind. it just continues to spin and spin, and although my eyes are closed I am very much awake.
Maybe, just maybe I’m awake because of the arguing. There’s so much of it, I can’t handle it but I can’t do anything about it.
It’s f’ing 2 in the morning. I can’t.
The crying on top of it, this poor little girl has to hear her parents scream at the top of their lungs. My heart feels like it is being ripped apart in my chest and pumping my blood causing it to course through my skin with each and every beat.
I . can . feel . the . pulse . all . over.
So I get up, and grab her out of her crib. She doesn’t need to be exposed to this, there’s just too much arguing and I have to get her out of here and get her to sleep. At least for the night.
I take her to my car in the garage, buckle her in the carseat, roll down the windows and drive. The arguing slowly fades as we leave the driveway.
I play some classical Chopin, at a low enough volume that it is just loud enough to hear it over the fall wind that blows through the windows.
10 minutes in the drive, and she is out like a light. I pull over, and tears of heartache and sorrow flow down my face. I can’t help but sob.
Then I cry out:
God, why do parents act so selfish sometimes they neglect to remember they have a child that is watching their every move, and learning exactly how to ‘be?’
This was a time before cell phones, when we had “pagers,” and I was sure at any moment I was going to get paged to ask to where I had driven, so I drive up close to the end of the street. At least I would be able to immediately be back should there be any worry.
Almost an hour goes by… and nothing. I almost doze off myself but decide not to due to the completely brutal mornings, as well as not having the a bottle handy should she wake up.
So I pull back in the garage, and since I can’t hear anything I imagine it’s safe to go back inside. So I do, and place her back in her crib, and go to my room.
Morning rolls around, and it was as if nothing happened. Nobody even knew I had taken her out for a ride to calm her down and get her to sleep. Nobody asked where I went, or why their daughter all of a sudden stopped crying amidst their arguing.
Is this a dream, Mr. Ben?
Thanks for asking, and no this is a story from my late teens/early 20’s.