Monday, February 8, 2016

Halftime Show

     I feel her watching me before I open my eyes. Did her bladder wake me up, or did my seizures wake her up?
     I can never really tell, for sure.
     Sometimes, but not often, I wake up while one is fading away.
     Usually, I don't even think about it, but those eyes in the dark make me wonder. What exactly is she staring at?
     I try to figure out what time it is without looking, which I'm pretty good at. It's late enough for everyone to be asleep besides us but too early to get up and stay up.
     My phone tells me I'm right; it's 1 a.m.
     We go downstairs, and I let her out, wondering who won the Superbowl and whether it will wake  my mind to check the score on Twitter.
     Probably, so I wait in the dark for her to come back in. Never turn the lights on if you want to go back to sleep again.
     That's a rule. Lights on means it's morning time.
     When I see her heading back in, I decide it's okay to take a quick peek at the final score. Wondering about it would keep me awake;-)
     The results are there on the first click. The Broncos won.
     A picture of the Panthers quarterback, looking like he's about to cry, makes me want to, too. His feelings are all over his face, and now that picture is all over the world.
     I want to pick him up and tell him it's going to be okay, that he'll win next year or the next or the one after that, and we all love him anyway.
     The click of the door brings me back from the football field, and I follow Maggie upstairs where we slip silently back into bed.