JUNE 1, 2020

At Long Last Sleep

“At Long Last Sleep” is my entry for the 96th episode of The Word Count Podcast.

With all that is happening in the world, I decided to post this today in place of my regular #MusicMonday blog. It just seemed the better choice.

When I wrote this story, things were already bad.

Remember Covid-19?

Now pile racism, worldwide protests, and riots on top of the pandemic.

These are the news stories against the backdrop of a deadly virus.

In Georgia, a 25-year-old Black man, Ahmaud Arbery went out for a jog and was murdered by three White men on February 23rd. Charges against the men were not filed until last month and only after public outcries.

In New York City, Amy Cooper blatantly used her privilege as a White woman to call the police on a Black man, Christian Cooper (no relation). She lied by claiming he was threatening her life, knowing full well her power over him should the police show up.

In Minneapolis, on the same day as the Amy Cooper incident, a White policeman knelt on George Floyd’s neck for more than eight minutes. George Floyd was a Black man whose pleas of “I can’t breathe” were ignored, and he later died.

In Toronto, a 29-year old Black woman, Regis Korchinski-Paquet fell to her death from her balcony after the police were called to her apartment. There was a rally yesterday after family members of the victim say the police were responsible for her death.

I wrote my story before some of the above events happened. It was meant to convey the despair and mood of the times. I didn’t think things could get worse, but they have.

You can also listen to me reading “At Long Last Sleep” on episode 96 of R.B. Wood’s podcast.

My story is based on the following image and the phrase: “Who Goes There?”

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I do not sleep, at least not like normal people who sleep, seven, eight hours, uninterrupted. I wake up every few hours, and some nights, I awaken every hour on the hour—like clockwork.

Hah!

It’s really not funny though. It makes for long, frustrating nights because I want to shut down, yet I can’t. The more I chase sleep, the more elusive sleep becomes.

That’s just how it is for someone like me—a night owl.

Lack of sleep was difficult given I had a full-time job. I did the early shift—my choice. If I left my apartment any later, the busy-ness of the city would make it difficult to navigate. Public transportation was hit and miss, so I often biked to work to help wake me up. Starting early meant I finished early, with the better part of the day to do as I pleased. I could go see a movie or sit at a restaurant patio and people watch. Even shopping for groceries during off-peak hours made an otherwise mundane task pleasant and carefree—no crowds to deal with. And though I didn’t earn a lot of money, I was rich in friends, family, and life experience.

Times are different now.

It’s day 178, post-Covid.

The days move ahead even though time warps in the strangest of ways. Somedays it feels like we’re standing still. Other days, a week goes by in hours. With the lineups that force everyone to slow down, juxtaposed against shuttered, non-essential businesses, despair and hopelessness ramp up.

We were warned. We could have come out of this sooner. Instead, some of us chose to follow alternate theories and cling to individual rights and freedoms instead of heeding the advice of experts.

Now the pain will last longer—for everyone.

I don’t have to get up early anymore. I no longer have a job. The owner of our mid-sized jewelry company held on for as long as he could, but in the end, he couldn’t pay his employees. The boutique, which specialized in semi-precious stones, did a booming business in good times. Now, it’s a luxury people cannot afford. Like sports’ events and the lifestyles of the rich and famous, jewelry no longer holds our interest.

I’ve taken advantage of government assistance for the first time in my life. I’ve deferred most of my bills for their maximum time periods. My measly savings will last another few months if I’m lucky. The only thing I buy is food, and when I feel especially desperate, I grab a bottle of liquor as well. One night, I drank an entire bottle of scotch. It made me so sick I couldn’t eat for days.

At least I saved money on food that week.

The world is quiet now without the sound of road traffic or air traffic.

Silenced also is the noise of construction and people.

The hum of a city no longer exists.

As the scientists had predicted, the second wave hit us, and it hit us hard. Whether young, middle-aged, or old—right wing, left wing, religious or not—none of this mattered in the end. None of this factored into immunity. What mattered was those who chose not to wear masks, who defied physical distancing, and who continued to proclaim Covid a hoax. They are finally silenced—after offering themselves as the path of least resistance to the deadly virus.

And for the first time in a long time, I can sleep again. In fact, I sleep very well now.