When I called my mother at 3am somehow she didn't seemed that surprised to hear from me. She is familiar with my quarterly bouts with insomnia and for some reason, I had a feeling she would be lucid enough and wouldn't be that annoyed by my after-midnight ramblings. I convince her to drop everything and help me get my house in order, in the practical and spiritual sense. She is in the middle of planting anthuriums and peonies, weeding her herb garden and picking vegetable seeds, but she says that her plants can survive for five days without her close tending. I tell that those plants will be just fine, and for a bit of drama, it is I who will wilt if she doesn't fly out to San Francisco. Is tonight too soon? I love that my mother appreciates impromptu plans. I tell her that I haven't had a proper start to the New Year. What would set me on the right track would be her ruthless organizing principles and take no prisoners approach to uncluttering our apartment. It will feel like the New Year, lunar or otherwise, as soon as she her plane lands tonight and we go straight to my kitchen to prepare a healthy meal. Everything begins with food. She is bringing black kale from the Torrance Farmer's Market. I will buy fresh shrimps, lemons and good pasta.
My husband has come out of the bedroom and is pleading with me to join him even for just a few hours. It is 5am and we get ready for work soon. I will force myself to wind down so that I can get through the rest of the day.