Sleep Would Be Best

The echos of my youth move through my head like the Kansas wind.

As I’m sitting here at 3:15 a.m. listening to Chris Isaak’s Greatest Hits, my mind is more active than my arthritic hands searching for the keys on my keyboard. I can’t sleep, even though I know sleep would be best.

It’s funny how my mind can take me to places I’ve never been and just as quickly, take me to a place where I can see the half-dozen used Pepsi cups from the pool hall lying on the floor behind the passenger seat of my ’72 Dodge Charger. One cup inside the other, cruising Main street, Doobie Brothers on the 8-Track while my arm rested on a pillow I had between the bucket seats. This pillow fit perfectly on the console and I’m not sure if anyone knew but on the flip-side of that pillow it had “I Love You” sewn on it. I have some random stuff from my youth but I’m not sure where that pillow went. Now it’s 3:30 a.m. and I wonder why head isn’t on a pillow right now. Wow, that was random.

Maybe this sleepless night is my mind’s way of telling me to remember those insignificant slices of my life, those screen-door-slamming-shut moments when you couldn’t walk pass a rock, empty can or dandelion without kicking it. Yeah, we’ve all been there. Come to think of it, I still can’t resist.

It’s possible these random thoughts are just what I need to take place of all current worries and hurries of every day life. To smile at a memory or spend time trying to figure out why these reflections have come to surface isn’t time wasted. There aren’t any dandelions in the yard right now but I may find that perfect rock for kicking today.

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