Nosebleeds

LAST WEEK-ISH I LAID MY HEAD DOWN TO REST in a quiet, dark, and dry room. Seconds after I reached out to extinguish my bedside lamp, I felt a drip, another drip, and finally, three streams roll down my face and on to my pillow.

My bleeding nose isn’t anything unusual; in fact, nosebleeds are commonplace in my world. During the winter months I experience nearly one a day, no matter how often I moisturize. I’ve accepted this flaw as adjacent to people that have asthma or allergies. I get nosebleeds.

This particular nosebleed was, however inconvenient, just beautiful. I ran to the bathroom to clean up the mess, looked in the mirror and saw delicacy. The lines of blood had made perfect curves strolling down my cheeks, along my chin and to my neckline in arbitrary beauty. It was a graceful accident.

That night after cleaning myself up, I went to rest my head once more. Another night in a dry room, shifting side to side, holding back the outpouring as it dried in place. It’s the time between awake and sleep that’s hardest—holding still, wanting to go on with your usual ways, but feeling the slow trickle roll toward the edge…

…right before the drip.