What Happened (Part 30)

This Monday night Carol Burnett is the last act on the ticket, and when she pulls her ear we are all ready to hit the hay. Pop stays put as the 10 o’clock news comes on.  At Mom’s insistence we drag ourselves to the bathroom where she has our jammies ready. We kick our clothes into the dirty and change, then brush our teeth, and take one last tinkle before bed. It’s really too hot for covers, but I insist on having a thin sheet over my midriff for security.  It is determined that the closet doors are completely closed, not from any specific anxiety, but to preserve us from staring into its darkly fascinating void and imagining what might come out. We find our spots (someone actually has to lie lengthwise along the bottom of the bed so we’re not all smugged up together). There is some debate whether to leave the windows open or not, and we compromise by having the one that opens on the field shut and the one behind the headboard open.  We might pray: “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.” We say our good nights and I-love-you’s to Mom, and it is time to sleep. 

But of course we don’t fall asleep all at once. The kerfuffle of getting ready for bed has dispelled the overwhelming drowsiness we were feeling for a while.  We talk for a little bit, going over the events of the day, recalling the most interesting things, wondering about tomorrow.  One by one the boys fall asleep until only I am awake.  I hear the distant natter from the TV finally cut off, and Mom and Pop going to bed.  Mom has taken to leaving the bathroom light on and the door open a crack, so we can find our way easily for emergency visits.  It also makes a good security light.  At last I drop of, lulled by the night breeze soughing through the innumerable rustling leaves of the ash tree outside the window.  Tomorrow it will all happen again, with interesting variations, but this is what life is like, and always will be, as far as I can imagine.