They visit me in the night: the things I failed to do today.
Put the blueberry plants in pots. (How do I manage to repeatedly overlook this all day only to remember it in the middle of the night?)
Send a reply to that email from a friend.
Speak to my son gently instead of snapping when he whined for "mama" yet again.
Bring the laundry in from the line. (I listen to the rain pouring outside; instead of being lulled to sleep, I fret about clothes that are already wet.
As I doze off briefly, I dream of a beautiful day near the water with my family. Given a moment alone, I wander off to watch the birds, only to be attacked by some large prehistoric animal that looks like a wild boar, only much bigger. It rams me in middle of my chest, right where I have pain from a pulled muscle. In the gloom of the night, I feel like maybe it is my heart breaking.