S went to bed all teary eyed and full of indignation. Her heartless mother tucked her in, said prayers with her, sang her the good night songs she requested, kissed her on the forehead....and then left the room. S was not in the mood to go to bed at bedtime tonight, so I thought if I went into our bedroom and read quietly, she'd give in to her exhaustion more easily. Not so much with the giving in. Eventually, she gave up getting out of bed (thank you Supernanny) and sat on her bed and whimpered.
I feel awful, even thought I know I did the right thing.
I checked on her after I finished my book a little while ago. Sound asleep and looking peaceful as all get out.
Only now I'm restless and unsettled.
Since I was awake and thirsty, I decided to go downstairs and get some water. On the way down the steps, I stumbled and almost fell.
We've lived in this house for over a year. In every single other place I've ever lived, I could find my way around in the dark within a month, no matter how many times I rearrange the furniture.
But not in this house.
A couple nights ago, I turned off all the lights to go upstairs to bed. I stumbled for the umpteenth time. I didn't trip over anything specific like a toy or shoes, just over...something. Every time that happens, I wonder what it is about this house that makes it impossible for me to navigate in the dark. The number of stairs certainly doesn't change, neither does the location of the walls or doors or cabinets.
But I'm still stumbling, fumbling around for something familiar that doesn't seem to exist here - at least not in the space I'm in at this particular moment. I don't even really know what I'm looking for or expecting to find or not to find. I just know that lately, that whole lot of nothing seems to be directly in my way.