Waking up tired is becoming a hobby of mine I think.... I am not sure exactly how that began.

      When I was a kid I was afraid of the dark and often woke up in the middle of the night.   Mom kept a light on in the hall in case we had to get up for the bathroom and more often than not, I would quietly get up and read by the light of the hall when I was frightened.

     I shared a room with my sister Celia.   We are very close in age and when we were younger, people often asked my mother if we were twins.  I thought that was strange since her hair was so blond and mine was plain old light brown; she had blue eyes, and I had mostly green eyes.   She was bold and bossy too and I was so shy and afraid of people, but, around family I was boisterous.

      Anyway, I had a stash of favorite stories, guaranteed to take my mind off the monster in the closet, that I kept close at hand.  What ever did I DO before I learned to read?   I imagine I hunkered down under the covers and cuddled up to Celia!   I clearly remember her putting icy feet on me many a time and protesting loudly when she did.   If for some reason the light was not on, I didn't dare turn it on...so I let my imagination take me away from those hands hiding under the bed waiting to grab my little feet if I had to get up.... in my mind I was always magical... I could fly... always could fly.  And I was brave and could sing.   Fly and Sing... perhaps I was a bird in my other lifetime.