34 + rosie FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
things you said in your sleep
i. “Daddy, I’ll protect you.” But you already do. I hope I’m not heavy, but your will reinforces my spine and I feel I can face it all. You haven’t just uttered these precious words, I wrote them down years ago so that I could remember how you were. My journals, my black books, became pages that I’d reread when I’d forget how quickly time passes. In this book, you’re seven and your head rests on my lap. I’ve turned the TV off because I know the slightest noise will wake you when you’re napping like this. In anger, half an hour ago, you ripped your favourite sweater and looking at it now reminds me that I can’t protect you. But I also shouldn’t want to, because to feel is to be vulnerable and you need anger to teach you humility, and to teach you resolution, and forgiveness. I found an old journal from when you were young, and memories flooded as if everything happened yesterday. I do not age, I’m old forever; if not for you, my life would feel like limbo. This said, I can’t wait until you’re grown and you’re out there experiencing the world. I hope it’s kinder to you.
ii. “Maxine,” you whine and a shot of dread pales my face. I turn the television up, hoping to wake you. As long as you’re safe, I don’t mind what you do or who you see, but under no circumstances do I want to be in the same room as you mutter your ex-girlfriend’s name in your sleep. Just in case. MTV wakes you and pop-trash greets you back into consciousness. With a heavy frown on your face, you turn to me and say, “you know when you wake up wanting to kill someone?” I exhale a sigh of relief as I turn the volume back down, and you don’t notice either.
iii. “Not the tomatoes!” You sat up for this one, fear in your eyes as they connected with mine. You looked around yourself, and took out your phone as you lay back down. I watched the device fall on your face and I winced for you, because you seemed already too deeply asleep. My eyebrows don’t raise more than a centimetre, it’s not the first time you’ve had weird nightmares. Later, You looked horrified when, at dinner, I served you spaghetti bolognese. You never explained your dream, but you seemed to eat with a sense of purpose, like you were taking revenge. You’re such a weird kid.
