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Chapter Eight
Where Do We Go From Rock Bottom
[CONTINUED]
As my mind had eased, I'd thought I could go back to sleep.
But other dark thoughts had begun to worm their way into my tired
consciousness: cancer, impotence, a troubled marriage.
Sleep became impossible.
In the end, I had gotten up to try and untangle the knotted
threads of my life. At this hour, for once, I had plenty of time to
think.
"Gin?" Keith's voice was sluggish—and surprised.
"Whatcha doing up so early? You all right?"
I was startled. Keith stood in the hallway, peering in at me,
his eyes squinting. His tousled hair made him look young and boyish.
"Yeah, I'm all right. I just couldn't sleep."
Keith came and sat next to me on the couch, putting his arm
around my shoulder. He looked at me with concern.
"I had a bad dream," I explained lamely. "And then I
couldn't go back to sleep."
I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips.
"Another dream about Mom?"
"Uh huh. I dreamed . . . I was so tired of taking care of her
that I couldn't move when she called for me. She kept calling and
calling, and I couldn't get up."
I reassured myself aloud. "I know I did everything I could
for her . . . It was just a bad dream."
Keith squeezed my shoulder.
I was grateful for his unexpected company. It seemed like a
long time since we'd sat and talked - really talked. I'd done a lot of
thinking during my early-moming reverie, and, now that he was
here, I realized I wanted to share my thoughts with him.
"Keith, I need to tell you what I've been thinking about.
Will you stay and listen?"
He looked a little apprehensive.
"Uh . . . sure Gin," Keith said hesitantly.
I took a deep breath and launched in.
"This dream helped me realize how tired I really am," I
began. "Not just from caring for Mom, but from what's been
happening to us, too . . . I'm tired of fighting, and feeling lonely. I want
it to end . . ."
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