After you brush your teeth and comb your hair and let the cat out for the night:
Leave the warm milk in the pan for the babies.
If your hands reach for the NyQuil, cut them off.
Lock up the melatonin in the medicine cabinet and swallow the key instead.
Take your pillow case and fill it with your every care, every anxiety, every worrisome “What if…?”, all if the haves and have nots, the rocks in your shoes, the sand in your towel, even the kitchen sink, shove it all under your bed and make the monsters walk a mile in your shoes.
I can’t guarantee a restful nights sleep but, I can guarantee that after a few months you will be restored to your former glory, the friend I first met and fell in love with.
The friend with a fire inside.
The friend who moved tectonic plates with the sound of her voice.
The friend who wouldn’t let just any man put their hands on her.
The friend who didn’t try to fix the broken home I came from but, always tried to understand my strange personality and make me feel welcomed.
The friend who sat and ate plumb pits with me when I had nothing else to eat.
The friend who always wore her hair up because she believed her long hair flowing in the wind would only lead her into the arms of an insufficient man.
There is a war inside if you friend.
I’ve seen it.
You have a warrior Viking princess raging inside of you, war torn, blood stained, and homesick.
You’ll sleep again.
Bring her home… please.