It's dark, but not dark enough. Two layers of curtains cannot block out the fading sunlight and the still brightness of the sky.
Teeth clenched. As I try to relax my jaw it only protests.
I smell burnt paper, sulfur. The sweat collecting on my forehead does not convince me to remove the covers from on top of me. I can't sleep without a blanket.
I'm uncomfortable in more ways than I can count. My legs ache from an uphill hike. The mosquito bite on my wrist is hot and itchy.
The clock says 12:10. Then 3:20. Then 4:05. 5:10. 6:12, 6:25. 6:34 brings the alarm. I'm dreading having to drag myself out of bed, wishing for anything but the work of moving my legs and having to think.
But he greets me. A touch of my foot as he walks by my side of the bed.
Another greeting as I stumble groggily into the nursery. A pacifier, 2 wide eyes, and a hand simultaneously clutching the side of the crib and the froggy-lovey. He bounces up and down when he seems me, and points to the ceiling fan.
The sun has been up for a few hours by now. Today it seems especially bright. Today, strangely, I don't mind it's brightness.
Wash my hair, grab some food, drive through Starbucks and off to work. I forget my sunglasses at home. For some reason I don't mind. The chai on my tongue tastes especially sweet.
They are all in good spirits at work. Brimming with stories from their vacations, eager to hear about mine. For the day, the troubles of reality don't matter that much. Even when that patient gets upset with me, I face it like an adult and don't let it bother me for even a minute after he leaves.
I had another terrible night's sleep, but God is good and He keeps His promises. I'm thankful.
For His anger is but for a moment,His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning.