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The hands of the clock indicate that one day is finished and another has started. I hear the seconds ticking by, so loudly in the dark silence. My mind is like a bizarre kaleidoscope, jumbled and swirling. If sleep is to come, I will have to create some order. So I begin to write. It’s mental writing but writing still the same. Putting the thoughts and ideas into order. Making some sense of the twirling and whirling that chases sleep away.

I’ve always loved words. I remember so clearly, Grade 1, learning how to put the ABCs into groups that spelled words and then those words into sentences. I was amazed at books. Someone that put words together in such a fantastic way that I was able to join them on a journey of their imagination. Oh to be able to do that myself. I read book after book, year after year. It irritated my sister to a grand degree. She wanted to go on actual adventures and I was quite happy to go on one through whatever book I happened to be reading. Words are amazing! They can be presented in so many ways to mean a multitude of different things.

I have a friend who paints with her words. There is colour, so much colour. As she writes, a picture appears, vivid, brilliant, full of light and movement, sometimes sharply focused and at other times like a delicate watercolour. They are words that you want to frame and hang on the walls of your heart.

Another friend’s words are like laughter, merry and light. When I read what she writes, I start to smile and moments later, a chuckle sneaks out. Before I can rein it in, they multiply in such grand style that they cause my makeup to wash off and make my sides hurt. I look forward to these words because I love to laugh.I have other friends whose words are hugs. These dear ones have impeccable timing it seems as those days when I need it the most, a most beautiful card will arrive, and in beautiful penmanship, encouragement and appreciation are expressed. The words are almost physical in their ability to reach out and envelope me in a hug. Not a pathetic, don’t-wrinkle-my-clothes-and-mess-my-hair hug, but a big old bear hug. It’s the kind that lets you know that you are loved, simple as that.

Still another friend’s words bring a challenge. Not because they tell me to do something. They’re strung together to induce thought and consideration. They cause me to think, “What if?” The possibility is presented in such a way that I am moved to action, to growth, to change. These aren’t empty calories. It’s the good stuff, the protein, the building blocks to excellent character.

The seconds continue to tick by on the clock but they’re not loud anymore. Now they are like the gentle whisper of the call to the adventure of a new day. Sleep will come easily now. Order has been created. My mission is laid out. I will endeavor to use my words wisely, for them to be what other’s have been to me.

Sleeplessness has become sleepiness.

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