Night.

I haven't been able to fall asleep the last two nights. My air mattress supports my back, my butt, like I am laying on a very large empty egg carton, only softer. Ethan sleeps quietly beside me, like a big ball of warm dough that breathes, in and out.
I think about Joey mostly, what it will be like the moment I see him--a long hug, little kiss, familiar and comforting like falling into bed at night, or a stiff hello, like we don't know each other well? It seems silly to think my marriage can still have this awkward element to it, but it does at times. In one sense, it's good, reminding me Joey is an autonomous being, dynamic and always changing into a different man than the boy I married five years ago. It makes me have to pay attention, stay sensitive to change. And sometimes it makes things awkward.
I also think about my doggies and how big Fiebi's eye boogies must be because Joey doesn't bother to get rid of them.
I think about Brazil, how I felt homesick there. How I cried on the phone with my dad in those early months. And then I think about my host sister there, Aru, and I still can't believe she morreo, she died.
Joey called in the midst of all this, like being rescued from a deep dark hole, and we talked for four minutes before his cell phone died. I waited, wanting him to call me back, but when he didn't I called him. No answer. An hour later I called again, still no answer. I hoped the last message "just" saying goodnight didn't sound as desperate as I felt to talk with him, to hear his voice, just to know he was there, but I am pretty sure it did. Again, weird awkwardness.
I finally ended up on my right side, my baby making weird movements, like one of those rubber balls that shake and vibrate violently when you squeeze them. Made me think that maybe I had a little too much caffeine that afternoon. Poor kid. The last thought I remember was of how good it would feel in the morning to wake up, because that would mean I actually fell asleep, and then, it was morning.