Hold my hand in the middle of the night

It’s the phone call I made last night at 4:30 in the morning that reminds me I’m loved. I was lying in bed listening to the rain rustle the leaves on the oak outside my window and worrying about my upcoming exam.

I haven’t studied enough. I’m never going to pass. I’m going to end up doing all of this work for nothing. I should have known I couldn’t do this.

I need to pay bills and look at my finances. When was the last time I did that? I wonder if I’m late or have missed a payment on anything. I hope my credit isn’t affected.

I’ve been drinking too much. It will probably age me and I will end up looking like 50-year-old woman by Christmas. And the smoking, too. Ridiculous. When was the last time I worked out? I really need to get my life together.

Then I went back to the beginning and started in on myself about studying. I finally looked over at the clock and realized I had been at this for over an hour.

I picked up my phone and called Rojo. No answer, but then he called back a minute later. “You ok, baby?” I explained my lack of sleep, my lack of motivation, my indulgent behavior and what I mess I am. He yawned and started talking me down in his sleepy voice so far away. “You’re fine. You can do this. Take one thing at a time and don’t get scared.”

I hung up the phone and snuggled down into my pillow. The wind still billowing outside, but my thoughts were calmer. I stayed awake for a couple more hours thinking about how loved I am, and how lucky I am to have a voice on the other side of the phone in the middle of the night. Some one who knows how relentless I am on myself, but always helps me snap out of it.

I wish you all a voice on the other side of the line.