I was going to write this morning.
I got up with plenty of time, but then Trulee decided that this morning would be as good a time as any to demand two walks within thirty minutes and my time for writing disappeared.
It wasn't that big a deal though, because I would have time later. I would be home by 6:15, and there would be space for this — space for words to form and thoughts to percolate.
But then around lunch I felt a migraine coming and for the rest of the day my focus was simple: drink as much water as possible. Take a lot of deep breaths. Stay awake during the meeting. As soon as I walked in the door of our apartment, Russ grabbed my hand and pulled me to his lap.
"I just need sleep..." I said.
He pointed to the corner of the living room and I blinked a few times before noticing the glider / swing he put together while I was at work. Internally, my heart bounced a few beats. Externally, I only kind of smiled.
"I didn't even notice it when I walked in," I said. I looked at him and nestled my head in the crook of his shoulder. "Almost as if it's always been there...." I could feel my head close in, the vice-like grip squeezing tighter. I sighed and pushed my way to the bedroom, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
That was five hours ago. Even after I let myself rest, I still had the residual foggy-brained feeling of thoughts not fully connecting. It's what happens when migraines take over completely. It's a good 24-48 hours before I can really breathe with relief again.
But I'm here now.
More and more, writing within the margins is how the words are won.