The Challenge of Love Chapter Sixteen

That night was the worst.  I tossed and turned.  Loneliness ate at me and as I looked at the future, it followed me ever expanding.  Even in my sleep it ate at me.  My dreams were full of loss and sorrow.  I would reach out, but my hands grasp only air.  Every creak woke me and each time I lay awake wondering how I was going to survive the loneliness.  Did I even want to?  I wasn't sure I did.

The first touch of dawn woke me.  I opened my eyes in the dimly lit room.  My head throbbed, my eyes were gritty and my throat was sore.  All I wanted to do was pull the covers over my head and sleep my life away, but the house was stirring.  With a sigh I pulled myself from the bed and made my way to the bathroom.  

The cold water washed the grit from my eyes, but it didn't relieve the throbbing in my head or the sadness in my heart.  The reflection that stared back at me from the mirror was pale.  There were shadows under my eyes and the color of the iris was pale and watery.  Shaking my head I picked up a brush and started to work the tangles from my hair.  The tugs intensified the pain in my head.  I endured the discomfort long enough to get my hair out of my eyes before noticing my vision had narrowed.  Great, a migraine, the perfect ending to my horrible night.

Stumbling down the hall and watching the world through half closed eyes I made my way to the kitchen.  Breakfast was not something I looked forward to.  The smell of coffee and meat cooking started a wave of nausea like none other.  

Groaning I went to the refrigerator to get out my normal migraine fare, yogurt, fruit and dry toast, hoping that once I ate a little the nausea would go away.  But this was one of those days when nothing seemed to help.  I finally closed my eyes and dropped my face into my hands, wondering how long it was going to last.

The voices around me droned on, but became a distant murmur as I slipped into a uneasy state between wakefulness and sleep.  It was only distantly that I heard the clacking of silverware and the clicking of metal on dishes.  The familiar sounds were comforting and lulled me into a deeper level of rest.  

As my body gave into the need for oblivion I began to dream.  The dreams were uneasy ones, full of smoke and loss.  The pain in my head became a pain in my heart as I reached for something, someone, just out of reach.

When I whimpered I felt a very real hand on my back.  The human touch woke me enough that I was again aware of my throbbing head.  The distant murmur of noises grew painfully louder.  At my wince grandfather's age softened hands moved to rub circles up my back to my neck, stopping at the base of my skull.  Under his touch I again slipped into a uneasy semi sleep.

Author's Note

Just a partial chapter. More later I hope. This is the first draft. I've not started corrections yet. I'm just trying to get it all into written format.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good chapter. I could feel the confusion and too many thoughts. I like the ending. Old people know how to comfort the young. Thank you for the excellent chapter.
Coyote