Sleeping always seemed a terrible waste of time, interrupting the more important things, a loss of consciousness in a very inconvenient moment. I do not ever really remember feeling tired, weary yes, sore after a hectic day’s physical assault, maybe, but too tired to continue wakefulness, never.
Slumber has grown on me over the years, become a time for relaxation, rest, without the need to apologize, or make excuses, an accepted way to distance myself from having to compete, with anyone, or anything, just let go of the oars and let the boat drift aimlessly.
Perhaps I was accustomed to trying too hard, taking too much weight upon my shoulders, accepting a feeling of responsibility for events quite beyond my pervue. ‘Twas a common fault with all my peers, taking the lead, guiding any followers studiously, professionally, purposefully.
I well remember the wondrous relief when I finally let the reins slip from my grip, just leaned back and sighed, allowing the team to prance and strut where it might, paying no heed to the confusion, just letting go.