August 29, 2017 I was awakened by a “tap-tap-tap” in my neck. It is a tremor, bringing a bit of force. At night, these fasciculations pound away when a particular muscle becomes irked by poor service from the nerve. This problem originates in the brain stem. The upper motor neurons have gotten out of whack and their messaging to the muscles, via the lower motor neurons, is scrambled. The tremors happen all over my left side: hands, hip, butt, back, shoulder, chest, leg. I see it as a small hello, not the notion that shifty aliens are living in my body.
No regrets, especially in the summer. The widows are wide open encouraging a flood of night sounds. A jet flows over at low altitude. My guess? The 1:10 from Chicago. Sure enough, the clock reads 12:50. An owl opens up. Ten seconds later, a reply from deep in the forest.
There are connections being sought in the night, an owl looking for a pal, a jet looking for a runway, and a synapse looking for a muscle.
A Journey To No Regrets 