A lighthouse at the end of a long day, after a difficult conversation — for the hours after a late shift

The window is thick and slightly green at the edges. The lighthouse will keep turning whether you watch it or not. Your coat is on the hook by the door, still wet at the shoulders.

There is a chair pulled up to the window that fits exactly one person. The wind is doing a low, steady thing against the glass. The tea in your hands is too hot to drink and you are just holding it.

Feel your wrists loosen. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Notice your hips, wide and settled.

There is a logbook open on the table with the last entry in someone else's handwriting. A ship passes in the distance with its lights on, and then it does not.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your hands be completely still.

Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.

The light goes out across the water and comes back, and goes out again. The lighthouse turns once every fifteen seconds, and you have stopped counting it.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.

The room at the top is small, round and warm, with a kettle on a ring. Below, the sea is doing what it does at night, which is mostly nothing.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

The light goes out across the water and comes back, and goes out again. The lighthouse will keep turning whether you watch it or not.

Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

A ship passes in the distance with its lights on, and then it does not. Below, the sea is doing what it does at night, which is mostly nothing.

Notice the exact moment your attention left. You probably won't catch it. That's normal. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.

Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.

Sleep. They will find their own way out.

Just the weight. Let it all get further away. You do not have to count them.

Almost nothing to do now. Stay. Just the breath.

Difficult conversations leave a residue. This is for the residue.

There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.