A Morning In Dublin
4/5/2012 It's 4:30 am in Dublin Ireland on a Thursday. It's 11:30 pm at home. I shouldn't be awake either place. I'm good at being awake when I shouldn't. I can't sleep. I have a headache. I have a headache a lot in Ireland. It's all the Guinness and Jameson. Even though I tread softly through the room, the man I love wakes as well. Both of us are restless. I've had beastly little nightmares and snippets of last nights drunken and troubling conversation. We fell asleep midway through and it keeps rattling around in my head. I leave him tomorrow to collect my dearly missed children for Easter while he jaunts around a few more days. I push it all out of my mind. I'm cold and lonely to the bone and my teeth are chattering. I draw a hot bath and play music that replenishes my strength and sense of self. I sink into the tub with a pencil that came with the room and my notebook. It's been years since I've written in pencil and I'd forgotten t...