The last two days have been full. Full of love, sharing, adventure, excitement. Yesterday we went with the Wendy bird and her family to White Sands. There, it was quite windy and brutally sandy, but we played. We ran and climbed up hills at top speed, rolled bumping down them into dizzy, giggling piles, and buried each other in the sand. Last night we came home sore but happy.
Today we went into the Gila. I had a really hard time with my fear of heights on the road there and was crying before we arrived. Once there, we waded in the river, hunted for pretty rocks and toasted marshmallows. It was a very technology free day and, as a mother's day, one of the best I can ever remember.
But now we're home and sunburned and achy, exhausted, and dehydrated. Keira was just ill and, as I lay here, I feel the familiar pull of a seizure. Times like these are when they like to happen best, when I haven't gotten enough sleep or water, too much sun and excitement...
The exhaustion pulls at me like a lullabye, rocking me toward darkness but my brain is still programmed for high excitement and intense thrills. The currents cross and... After a hiccup of consciousness I'm minutes/hours later, feet/miles from where I was only a minute before.
During these times I can sometimes feel an aura. At one time it was a smell or a tingle at the back of my neck. At others, there was just a split second of sudden surety that I was about to descend into madness. Now, there is a feeling associated with it, a feeling of biting against a soft resistance that doesn't really exist. A feeling that is formed when one strains the TMJ from clenching ones teeth too tightly.
Fear quivers but only dully because the exhaustion has already begun to pull me toward oblivion. I wonder briefly if I'm about to have a seizure, then slip thickly toward sleep.
Not tonight.
But, with that faint aura, my body reminds me that I'm pushing my luck. Enjoy life but all things must be done in moderation.