Sleep, sleep has slowly become a luxury that seems harder and harder to get. Every night involves the same tossing and turning, tossing and turning. My mind performing mental gymnastics as I try and work out what went wrong, how do I fix it, and did I really say that? How can you sleep when your mind is tossing and turning, the waves of your consciousness crashing the rocks of your being. I lie and wonder has my daughter going to sleep, is she sleeping soundly? Is she warm, is she worried, she often says she is, and she fears the monsters that live in her mum’s home. I worry what this means and that she says she sleeps under three duvets to stay warm. How can I call myself a parent when I allow this to happen. I tried, I tried, I told people, and none of them looked, they just told me not to worry and go away. How would they feel if it was their own child? Does this happen a lot, am I building a mountain out of a molehill? What if my daughter is having a terrible time and she just wants to be free, she tells me she hates the cold of her mum’s home, and she wants to be somewhere snuggly and warm. I go and check the thermostats in my house, I make sure it is constantly around 20 degrees, in case my daughter appears out of nowhere, I worry that she’ll appear freed from her matriarchal bonds and come to stay with me. I can’t ever let the house be cold in case that happens I need to make sure that the house is always warm for her. I put my hand on the radiator, it is not warm, I panic. Then I slowly realise that it is summer and that is why the hallway is still lightish, a grey light that seeps in from the streets outside with the odd orange strip where the street lights are radiating in.