At first I couldn't sleep. Now, it's all I want to do...

Six months. Goes by in a blink. So hard to believe, but she's been gone six months. Oh, how I miss you, Mom. I think of you all the time. And when I'm not thinking of you, something, the smallest thing, brings you back to my mind.

I have been prone to bouts of insomnia during times of stress. All summer long, while you were sick I had trouble sleeping. I tried relaxation, ambien, wine, walks, music. My brain wouldn't shut off, and when it finally did and I started to fall asleep my legs took over and walked miles all night.

I remember the day it changed. Your life was coming to an abrupt end. We had no idea it was going to happen so fast. You never wanted to talk about wills, or power of attorney--things like that. But now we were running out of time. I went to your house and we talked a bit about it again, and decided that I would print everything out for you to read and sign. Then I had to find witnesses to sign the papers. I remembered the name of one of the pastors at the church you and Laura attended and looked him up. Called him. He was so kind and willing to help. He and his wife came by so quickly. I brought out the papers and read them out loud to both you and the pastor and his wife. After reading the will you looked at me and you said "Very Good". One of the last coherent things I ever heard you say.

Then the pastor sat with you and read from scripture. It's not my thing, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you which bit he read. But he read it to you, and then prayed with you. He told you that you would be going to heaven, and you said you"hoped so". He said he "knew so". That's when every fiber in my being calmed. Something went click and I knew that I would actually be able to sleep that night. It was a long day and night. I didn't get home until after midnight. But I did sleep.

I went to work the next morning and by early afternoon the call came from Cheryl telling me that you were truly dying and that there wasn't much time left. I left work and went straight to Oostburg. There were no more conversations to be had. It was true. You were leaving.

And then you were gone.

Afterward I did have trouble sleeping from time to time. But once I slept it was all I wanted to do. It's all I want to do now. I've been a night owl my whole life. I like to sleep in. But it's different now. Sundays are the worst. I tell Joe, when he comes into the bedroom to see me sleeping still, "give me a reason", "what's my motivation to get up and join the world today?". Eventually, I do get up. I do what is necessary, and that's about it. Hey, the vacuuming is done, the bed is made. Whoop-dee-doo.

I'm trying. I really am. I feel ashamed. Other people, normal people, get up early. They get things done. By the time I get going (unless it's a work day) it's already noon. As if I don't already have enough guilt in my life, there's this. I know that I'll stay up late. I'll do some chores, take care of the birds, surf a little web, watch something on Netflix, crochet. But I'm missing the flame, the flicker, the gusto. Maybe it's just winter blues, maybe the spring will make it better. I hope so. In the meantime, I'm in a walking coma.

The Parakeet Tree

Last winter I got this great idea to make a tree for the birds. Along the lines of a coffee mug tree, but sized bigger for the birds. Using a drill and saw aren't exactly my strong points. I can drill a hole, no problem. But drilling and cutting and assembling to specifications, that's a bit of a challenge for someone clumsy like me.

So, after several tries at getting the diameter of the holes right for putting the smaller dowels through (and working out how to drill the hole without destroying the post), I was finally able to assemble the piece. It's not as stable as I'd like it to be, but it's pretty good. I thought about painting it with food coloring or kool-aid, but haven't gotten 'round to that yet. In the meantime, I set it up next to the big playgym on one of the desks in birdland and waited to see what would happen.

Over the next couple months the birds began using it. One, maybe two at a time. But, lately, and it seems more often close to night-night time, they've all been flocking to the tree. I'll realize they've gotten quiet and I hear them grinding their beaks quietly, then turn from the computer to see the tree branches full. The Parakeet Tree is a success.

It seems they think they should be able to sleep there all night. Something I haven't permitted. But, you know, it kind of makes sense. In the wild I'm sure they congregate in trees, settling in on branches, well camouflaged by leaves and flowers, and drift off to sleep there. So, it seems right that they've taken to filling in the branches on The Parakeet Tree each night.

Plus, it makes a great photo.

I can take a hint...

Lately, when I'm getting the birdies ready for bed, I've been getting pretty much everything done, then turning off two main lights in the room and turning on their night-night CD. It's a nice mix of mellow celtic tunes that they've really gotten to know as bedtime music. Some nights, after I've dimmed the lights and started the CD I'll sit down at the computer for a few minutes before I officially tuck them in. A good deal of the time it includes actually having each bird hop on my finger and putting them in the house, one by one.

The past week or so they've been going in on their own. When I turn around after a bit at the computer, there they are, all inside, waiting for me to close the door, say goodnight, and cover them (slightly). After that, the nite-lite goes on and they are off to lullaby-land, grinding their beaks until they drift off to sleep.

Google still requires me to tuck him in. He doesn't have the flight yet to get over to his cage and climb in on his own. I expect he will someday.

So, tonight, I had everything done...their cages cleaned, food freshened, clean waters, the floor vacuumed. I turned out the two main lights, put on the music CD, and left them all to settle down for a few minutes. I walked down the hall to talk to my husband, Joe, about something. It got involved, a few more minutes passed. Mid-conversation I felt something on my foot. I looked down to see Google standing on top of my shoe, staring up at me. He didn't call, he didn't whistle, he just decided he was done waiting for me to come back and took the walk down the hall to come and get me.

Startled, I picked him up and we walked back to birdland. All the budgies were in their beds, waiting for me to say goodnight. I tucked Google in, he went swiftly to his sleeping spot, and I, finally, said goodnight to all my lovelies.

I can hear them grinding their beaks softly now. Dreamland must be near by.