Rest, come again
Should have been asleep 4 hours ago.
Should be awake an hour from now.
Can’t have one without the other.
All of the thoughts barge in while rest politely stands knocking.
Unable to organize my mind’s entryway closet, I’m buried under the coats and purses of memories. They hurry in, drop their parkas, hoodies, and raincoats on my arm, and run out the back door. There’s no chance for me to catch up. Inand out, they don’t stop long enough to visit, to remember the scents and sights with me. I haven’t enough hangers or space on the clothing rod and it buckles, leaving a pile of outerwear at my feet. I expect the overturned pockets to reveal loose change or wallets. Instead, hundreds of scraps of paper, scribbled with names, dates, and details quickly etched as reminders parachute through the air. Struggling to solve the mess, rest begins ringing the doorbell, eventually turning away. It leaves a note - “I’ll try you again tomorrow.”