Friday Freewrite: Lost Sleep
Freewriting is that wonderful key that unlocks the writer within.
Today’s writing prompt:
Have you heard people say they feel tired because they “lost sleep” the night before? Imagine sleep is an actual object you had to search for after you lost it. Write what that might be like (and remember, you’d be sleepy while looking for sleep!).
Share your child’s freewrite in the comments if you’d like! (Or feel free to share your freewrite too!)
New to freewriting?
Freewriting is the vehicle by which we trick our inner selves into expressing the words and ideas that we want to share but are afraid won’t come out right on paper if we do. So, read the freewriting prompt, set the timer for 5-10 minutes then have your child write whatever comes to mind. We invite you to freewrite too, at the same time as your kids. Just keep the pencil moving until “ding”—when the timer rings!
Need more help? Check out our free online guide.
The kid didn't want to play this morning, but I did...
Looking for Sleep
By Robert Pappas
I opened one bleary eye. Again. For the fifth time.
The red numbers on my iPhone, dimmed in "sleep mode," which, let’s be honest, is a lie, whispered quietly: You'll never find her.
And with that, I gave in. I rolled over, sighed like a man twice my age (which is like 150), and sat up. Feet met cold ground. And there they were, waiting for me in the corner like regulars at a sad dive bar.
Anxiety was already pacing. She’s always early.
Distraction showed up too, this time as three identical versions of herself, bouncing around with things I definitely did want to look into but definitely shouldn’t.
Sarcasm, a wiry little thing in a too-tight blazer, gave me a dry nod.
And Wit? He looked up from the floor, barely visible. I squinted. “Hey, Wit,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
These characters never really answered. They just existed. Always had. But something or someone was missing.
Sleep.
Usually, she lingers at the end of the line, standing there with her arms crossed and a look that says, If you had come to bed thirty minutes earlier, maybe we’d be on better terms.
She’s sweet when she sticks around. Restorative, even.
But last night, she vanished. Not even her cousin Napping had stopped by.
So I asked the room.
“Anyone seen Sleep?”
Anxiety got taller.
Distraction multiplied again.
Sarcasm rolled her eyes and turned her back.
Wit got smaller.
Figures.
I checked the usual spots.
The hammock on the porch? Nope.
The warm driver’s seat when the heater is on? Nope.
On the couch, throw blanket with the remote? Tempting, but no.
I got ready and dragged myself to work.
Sometimes, when I put in long hours, she shows up, tucks herself between tasks, and pretends it is a coffee break.
No such luck today.
The day passed. I was fried. Toasted. Burnt on both sides.
Working without sleep or even a brief visit from Napping is rough. You start to lose grip on things like time, words, and the point of meetings.
Then, later that night, I walked in the door. Dropped my bag. Headed to the kitchen like a homing pigeon on autopilot. Cold chicken from the fridge? Check. One beer? Check.
By the third beer, I found her.
She was curled up behind the bottle, eyes closed, wearing that smug little smile that says, You didn’t earn me, but fine.
I didn’t argue. I picked her up, stumbled toward the couch, and let her take me.
Would love to read your children's freewrites if you post them here!