WA1 draft 2

My eyes are beyond the point of drooping, it feels like my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds, and it takes all my strength to open them. The scene around me comes back into focus, the airport, a different state but the exact same place. They all are crashing into the same picture in my mind. Things are fuzzy, my brain can’t translate all the information it’s getting. Something about more plane rides, “We missed the connection”. Every bit of emotion has left my mothers voice, “We need to take three more planes to get there, or we can drive 10 hours”. Why is she saying it like it’s an option? She’s upset and doesn’t seem to realize Jake thinks she’s. His ears have been hurting him since the first plane ride this morning, and he immediately starts lobbying for the driving.

We drove to D.C. at 4:30 and haven’t rested or eaten since. It’s dark outside, nighttime. Sleep time. An image of my bed flashes through my head. Pillows and blankets, rest. Why are we flying so far away from our beds? Babies are crying all around me, like a symphony of wailing, unabashed shrieks. Jake is crying, his ears hurt and he’s hungry, and we’re going to fly on three more planes, which take us away from Oklahoma, then back again. That’s stupid. I am so tired it’s all I can think. The howling children are inclosing me in a cage of light. Their shrills echo off of every part of my brain, I just want to sleep.

I try to think of what the clock said when I finally went to bed last night, 2:00 I think. Maybe not, I’m not sure, and really don’t care, as long as I get to sleep soon. Everything’s hazy, unexplainable and odd. Suddenly people walking with their luggage seems absolutely ridiculous, people reading the news paper, talking on their cell phones, seem like a joke. It feels like a hallucination, why would anyone ever bend down to tie there shoes? I’m mildly aware that the things I’m saying have lost all rationality. My mother is bargaining with the woman at the airline counter. Her face is caked under so much makeup she looks like she ought to work behind the makeup counter at Belk.

My thoughts become hard to read, like a distant figure in a heavy fog. I’m sure it’s there but it could be anything. Where am I? I realize that I’m walking, my mother and brother are ahead of me, we’re going to our gate. My feet move, from pure muscle memory I’m sure, I couldn’t make this movement happen on my own. My body feels lifeless and limp, it’s late, and exhaustion is taking over. I feel like I’m wrapped in a blanket like dream, shielding me from reality. Really I’m miles away from here not boarding a plane but sleeping. My body aches, screaming for slumber. I can’t remember when I got to sleep or the exact events of how it happened, but never in my life have I ever been that tired.