Where IS that woman?!
Once past babyhood, diapered in the crib, I believe I've never actually slept through an entire night. The main thing: the only way I know to placate one's bladder is by getting up and relieving it. Add to that unexpected noises in the night; weird dreams so convoluted and intense - not necessarily frightening - that I awaken from them involuntarily; and who-knows-what other causes of disturbance... and the routine is for me to be up and down two to four times per night.
In twilit intervals between being up awake, and sound asleep, there's something else...something whose origin I can't pinpoint. Body, subconscious mind, instinct? Let's just say 'Mother Nature'. Not scientifically accurate, perhaps, but certainly something we all understand.
What I get prodded with - by Mother Nature or whatever source - isn't in words, but can be expressed with reasonable accuracy as: “Where IS that woman?!”
No mystery, no ambiguity: the woman referred to is well known to me. Her name is Sandra. She's my wife. I've been with her, through at least parts of every day, and pretty much all night, every night, for thirty-three years. (Not that anyone's counting...except for Gloria, mother of my friends the Robinson brothers; she invariably sends us Anniversary cards.) But going to bed - whether for the first time after a long day - or after a short interval in the middle of the night, that prod inevitably demands my attention.
[The thought occurs this may relate to Mother Nature wanting me to 'have my way with her'…although I suspect the actual case is more like being available so Sandy can have her way with me. If not at the moment, at least the possibility's to be maintained…perhaps after both of us finish getting enough sleep.]
Not that establishing where 'that woman' is requires extensive or time-consuming search. To the contrary, I know just where. Unlike during the daytime, when that thought sometimes comes unbidden. If the house is quiet except for what little noise I happen to be making, I go looking for her in the yard. Our piece of property is modest in size, but she gardens in dull, well-worn, faded clothing which blends her effectively into the foliage. I frequently wander over and around the whole yard without seeing her. To prevent neighbors from thinking that I'm a complete doofus, meandering and calling “Sandy! Sandy!” - as if seeking an errant pet - I finally had to resort to keeping in the kitchen a little wooden whistle that goes “Woo woo!” like a 19th century locomotive. I've actually blown it, from time to time, to get a response revealing where she is.
But back to nighttime. When prodded with “Where IS that woman?!”, I search about a foot and a half towards the eastern half of the bed. Invariably, I find her there. Once so located, I insinuate my body closer and closer till we're in at least spotty contact, which I accentuate by carefully moving one leg right against hers, adding an arm wrapped over her upper body. Oriented into such contact, the prodding - again, if it could be put into words - changes to “OK...there she is...just make sure that she Cannot Get Away. Having assured myself and that inner voice that such is the case - Sandra Cannot Get Away - that inner voice permits me - I mean, encourages me - to fall back asleep.
I've no idea if anybody else has similar experience, and have no intention of asking! You'll have to excuse me now; it's daytime, but it's been a couple of hours since I've seen her, and I have to placate this insistent little voice inside that asks “Where IS that woman?!” I've no doubt I can - and will - locate her…and the rest of the day should unfold in a more-or-less routine and orderly fashion. Tonight, when I encounter that prodding, subtle voice again, I'm sure I can again quiet it down and get some rest.
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