I’m lying in my bed, still as ice. I try to close my eyes. But it feels like there are million small pins wedged in-between the lids. I’m distracted by the tinkling of the wind chimes in the farthest corner of the room. Has it always been this loud? The dull droning of the ceiling fan, the whining of the A/C - all these sound magnified too. Funny thing about these headaches! When all you want to do is close your eyes and tune out everything else, that’s when the stupid mind seems to find an insane urge to heighten all the senses. I pull my arm over my head to shut out the light streaming in from the streetlamps, uncharacteristically bright, through the curtained windows. Tears escape me helplessly. I swallow hard only to regret the bitter after-taste of medicine that is still lingering in the depths of the mouth even after a spoonful of honey. I tiredly cast around for something to concentrate. My stomach grumbles loudly, but the thought of food... Ugh! It makes me really uncomfortable. Nauseous!
The only sense that isn’t uncomfortable right now is the soft nudging I feel against my chest and my arm; the warm sweet breath on my neck. I softly turn around and roll over the bundle a little farther away into the more comfortable bed space. I lift my freed right arm, only to reinforce the protection against my eyes and ears. Even these tiny movements increase the pounding in the head.
All I need at this moment is a warm shoulder to lean against; soft tender fingers to reach under my hair and apply pressure in areas around the right ear lobe; gentle caress spreading the icky pain balm on my forehead; a wet kiss on the eyelid. To divert my mind, I need to hear talks about things for which the maximum response I’m expected to give are 'hmms' and 'amms'. Finally a whisper to say softly yet firmly, 'Try to sleep. The world can wait'. I want you.
You. Come home to me. Now!
I can then curl up on your arms and try to sleep.