I can and do think of many people and events. I review things I should not review because I need to sleep. I listen to my son snore from his room, which adjoins mine; the french doors between are always open. My husband sleeps alone in the guest room, both to avoid my snot-induced snores and to spare me his. Yet without his comfortable slow breathing I cannot fall asleep.
I stick my hand out from under the covers and brush my index and middle fingers together. A faint sound in our big house. I am calling my friend, my big furry cat Trout. A few minutes wait and he jumps onto the bed. He seems a bit grumpy; has probably been woken up by my call, quieter than a whisper though it was. And my dear cat lies down next to me and purrs.
And purrs. And purrs.
His purr is a delicate silken courderouy. The sound is accompanied by a barely perceptible (or perhaps imagined?) vibration through the mattress, the touch calming me. A sound to calm and comfort me. I melt into sleep.
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