It was Sunday. Maddie awoke to give her son his seizure medicine and couldn’t sleep. She sat at the east window and watched the sun rise. First the glow of grey turned into yellow, then the bright white. She got up and started the coffee. She should sleep but she can’t. Too many shortened nights of sleep made her feel like she had to keep going.

The house was quiet. She liked these moments best. It gave her peace. It made her feel like she could do what she wanted. She pulled out a book she had been reading for weeks. Her library let her borrow it again and again. She was close to finishing. She opened the book and began to read.

A distant beeping cut through her concentration. The pulse oximeter sounded, beeping through her pleasure. She waited. It continued. She blinked slowly, closed her book and walked to her son’s bedroom.

He was sitting up, facing the door when his body dropped into the bed as if he lost consciousness, then sat up again and laughed. Maddie checked her watch and began timing the seizure. He was having clustered seizures and began trembling, first on the right side of his body and moving onto the rest of his body. She grabbed the magnet to magically end this torrent. Nothing changed. His body continued trembling. She reached for his other medicine, her heart rate increased. She looked at her watch and noted the time. She tore the package and put the nasal spray inside his nostril and squeezed the contents.

His body stopped moving. His eyes closed and he remained peaceful. She looked at the clock again. She began to feel the tears climb. She let them come quiet down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath. She slumped into the rocking chair, closed her eyes and listened to the house noise.

Nothing. No one but herself was awake. Everyone slept. Alone again, she slept.