My niece recently posted a picture of her son, sound asleep in the car, after a hard day in 1st grade. Ah, the memories. I miss being able to sleep anytime, anywhere, regardless of the circumstances.
I miss being completely indifferent to sound or light or motion or surroundings. I miss sleeping so deeply that I’d wake up in my room without any memory of having been picked up and carried there. I really miss being tucked in.
I miss drooling on someone’s shoulder. No. I take that back. I don’t miss that. What I miss is being so easily forgiven for doing something that disgusting. Try pulling that off at age 54 sometime.
I miss the concept that naps are mandatory, rather than a guilty pleasure. I miss taking sleep so for granted that I could pitch a fit rather than do it, secure in the knowledge that I’d get there eventually. I miss not being kept awake by my own thoughts and concerns.
Most of all, I miss that level of deep, unwavering trust. I have fond memories of being so certain that if I took a train to dream land, someone would be there to watch over my corporeal being until I returned.
Enjoy it while you can, kiddo.
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