Nap Time

I wait for nap timelike I used to wait for a Friday night. Like some wait for cocktail hour each night. Like others wait for time to take a long run any night.

Fed Ex Man, Tree Trimming Person, Sweet Little Neighbor Girl Who’d Like To Play In My House, Mother-In-Law,

It Is Nap Time. I’ve been waiting for the clock to hit this hour since I heard my name being called before the sun came up this morning, since I went to bed long, long after the sun went down last night.

Nap time is my time to do whatever it is that brings me sanity so that we all make it until the sun sets tonight.

It will be quiet. It will be peaceful. I will pretend that I am alone in my home, if only for 20 minutes.

So long as you don’t ring my doorbell. So long as you don’t put your truck in reverse with the beep-beep-beeping. So long as you don’t keep talking and talking while we are trying to leave.

“Oh, you can skip his nap,” says the mother of kids in school full day with her blown-out hair and clean t-shirt, says the woman who’s had a full night’s sleep, says the man who will lie on his couch after work tonight. They are mistaking my desperation for rigidity.

Will I forget? Will I ask a new mother to forgo her baby’s nap for me, a grown adult, so that we can visit?

For now, I stay huddled with my fellow nap time warriors because they wait each day for nap time, just like me.