Sleeplessness: friend or foe?

When I was little, on Christmas Eve night, it was undoubtedly foe. I got up once in the middle of the night, out of my mind with excitement, because the reindeer had landed outside my window, first on the roof of Daddy's den below. I heard them and had awakened my sister, never the best of ideas.

Jean Ellen got up, but I do not think she felt my thrill. I was five. She was nearly fourteen. We had different perspectives.

"Jean Ellen, look at the tracks. LOOK!" I shone the flashlight on the snow. It was one of those rare mid-Connecticut years when there was new snow for Christmas. Those movies about Connecticut White Christmases are myths, and they really are about the Northwest corner — part of the Buffalo run. We were more of a slush and ice place for the first month. But there it was. Slightly bluish purple, with a very clear line of tracks of something bounding across.

Jean Ellen might have said many things, having been awakened rudely. What she did say was, "They are awfully small for reindeer, so I really don't know."

Then she looked at my face. "Well, Santa's reindeer change size, you know. They have to. They get really tiny because they cannot be detected that way by all those big radar dishes on t.v." She had me in her hand by now, and she brought me to her bed, and went on. "Plus, they have to shrink all the presents and make the sleigh lighter, for flying. When they shrink the reindeer, they don't lose their strength or get slower. They just get small. You see? So the presents get little and lightweight and so does Santa. I mean, he's a big elf, really, when you think about it."

I remember being absolutely enthralled. They never TELL you the logistics of it all, you know?

"And how would 'eight tiny reindeer' lug around presents for the whole world? I mean, really, Jetty. How? So I think you are right. And Santa's probably HERE, with Dad, and--"

I was out the door and straight into my dad, walking down the hall with a platter about the size of our flying saucer sled, with a giant turkey on it. It was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen, but Daddy had SHOWN us all the presents for Mommy already. And it couldn't be for anyone else. I was stunned, there, trying to figure things out. And why was Daddy up anyway? Santa was here. He didn't have a cap, but he was supposed to be asleep.

I said, "Daddy, Santa is HERE. I gotta see him."

"WHOA, there, Jetty. What are you thinking of? You can't do that." I was still eying that platter.

"Is that for Mommy? How come you didn't show me when I asked you? You PROMISED me you'd trust me with the secrets Daddy, and I didn't tell even one, even when I knew you got the pretty combs Mommy wanted, with the blue."

Then I saw he stockings at the top of the stairs, too.

He didn't miss a beat. He said, "Well, This is PRECISELY why you have to go to bed, young lady. Santa is downstairs and he is running behind. So he asked me to help. I have to wrap this from him to your mom, because those elves ran out of time. PLUS, he asked me to bring the stockings up on my way. Now I have to quickly do this and go back down there so Santa can sign the card, so you... better ... skeedaddle... off ... to... bed...."

LONG pause and he looked like he would chase me...

"NOW"

I squealed and ran and jumped into bed, laughing.

Jean Ellen mumbled, "Okay now? Will you PLEASE sleep?"

I hurried up and slept faster than any five year old on the planet.

***

But not tonight. Earlier I wrote a tribute to my ex-husband, but left it posted for about an hour. then I took it down, realizing it was TOO personal. I have never told HIM what he gave me, why I will never consider our marriage a mistake. I decided I should tell him first. Married couples have their own secrets, and though, for once in my life there was nothing but love in it toward him, I felt as if it were sacred. As if I shouldn't share THAT. Isn't that strange, after we've been apart now for longer than we were together? He blew up my life in ways from which I'll never climb back--financially, anyway. Yet it felt disloyal.

And it kept me awake.

I am sleepy and I have work to do, but I am too groggy to work, which is not good. I tried all day to work, but I spent time with my grown son--important time. And that was far more important than money to me. And my constant companion of pain of the last few days was at hand, talking loudly to me all day long.

And that keeps me awake.

But what fun to move from either kind of pain--poignant and loving emotional pain or physical--to this. To pure joy, given to me by a five-year-old's faith in magic, a sister's love that outweighed her own love of sleep, and a Dad's willingness to keep his little girl's faith bright and shining. The same Dad of yesterday's entry. MY daddy.

I want to sleep. Just for a couple of hours. Perhaps now, after remembering the BEST sleepless night EVER, I can go to sleep now really, really fast. I don't know.

But I think, perhaps, I was mistaken at the beginning of this entry! The judgment rendered for tonight is sleeplessness: friend, without a doubt.

Good night all.