She's only seven or eight weeks old, after all. Maybe half a minute later, her eyes are closing, and five minutes later she's deeply out, making little suckling motions in her sleep, while I type one-handed. As someone who's struggled with insomnia for most of my life, I watch the peaceful rise and fall of her fat brindled sides with a combination of admiration and envy. I don't think I ever go out like a light, the way Maggie can. For me, unless I stay up to the point of exhaustion, getting to sleep is always a gradual process, often with fits and starts that go on into the small hours.
Some nights are worse than others.
Last night was a bad one, full of intrusive dreams and visions, and I am very tired. I wish I could sleep as easily as she does. It doesn't work that way for me. I keep working away in that general direction without, it seems, making much progress sometimes. I almost never know faith, the way I almost never know I'm falling asleep.