I did have trouble going to sleep when it was windy, when if felt as though the trees near our house must certainly be blown down, and I would lie in bed terrified and hold my breath during the biggest gusts, expecting disaster at any moment.
Usually though, I slept long and deep.
And oh, how fondly I remember the times that I was young enough to be carried into the house when I had fallen asleep in the car, Dad scooping me up and bringing me inside, almost but not quite waking up in the cold night air.
And that feeling of getting into bed after a hot bath the night after the sheets had all been changed, all smooth and crumb free and warm.
Nowadays my sleep pattern is more disturbed. I have vivid dreams that are often frightening but when I wake up with a jolt, scared, there is the comforting weight of my boyfriend sleeping beside me. I envy him his ability to drift off at a moment’s notice.
When I do sleep alone, I push the nightlight into the plug beside my bed. I might be a grown up now, but I’m still afraid of the dark.
When sleep eludes me even though I’m tired, I get frustrated. I start counting the hours until I need to get up. My mind whirls. I jot down words on the pad beside my bed, must get this, must do that, in the hopes that I can clear up the tangled mess of thoughts inside my head. I toss and I turn and I think that I will never get to sleep.