It’s 03:19.

I’ve been waking regularly for the the last four hours, each time with a dream clinging to me and trying to suck me back down into its confusing miasma.

It’s my hot flashes driving this, my disoriented mind surmises. The chemical brew that forced me into instant menopause has put the hot flash hot light on nearly constantly some nights.

So it is tonight.

As a result, my dreams are vivid.

In them, I’m back I’m Utah, the place I consider home.

I’m concerned about my dear friends. Someone is very unwell. Something bad is happening.

I wake again, confused, concerned, and prayerful at the same time.

I moved every one to three years as a military child. I lived in Utah as a small child, and in high school when I returned there, I vowed never to leave.

After several fits at starts of moving and returning, I finally did leave for good. I haven’t lived there for over thirty years.

I moved to sea level ultimately, but Utah is my heart.

So are my dear friends from there.

In Utah, in high school, I made some true lifelong friends. Starting at age 14 through my extra stay when I was 19, I made deep friendships.

It’s a handful of people who I love and miss tremendously. I wasn’t a popular girl, but I was seeking friendship – and found it in these young women and men.

We stay in touch through occasional calls, texts, and messages. We have the kind of friendship where we can pick up where we left off, even after all these years. Now we talk about gardens and grandkids.

Tonight’s dreams were uncomfortable, though. Born of my intermittent feverishly hot thrashing, real worry for them was the theme that kept troubling me.

Finally I’ve given up on sleep -for now. I’m reading a novel I’ve read at least three times – there is comfort in coming home to a familiar book.

Maybe it’s a sign I need to make a trip home, taking my husband so see the places and people that are so embedded in my heart.

And my bestie, Mo, can fly in from the Midwest where she landed to expand her family, also far from her home in Utah.

Yes. I think it’s time.

It will be a balm for my lonely soul.