When the downstairs seemed peaceful again, I returned to bed, settling into the dead center of the mattress under heaps of bedcovers to smother me back into a peaceful rest. The new position permitted two more hours of sleep and led to a slow awakening—a revival that allowed me to take stock of my surroundings and fall back into a tentative sleep if all fared well in my survey. When my mind settled on a negative, the checklist stopped and the problem area magnified until I gave in, turned on my light, and read the rest of the night. If sleep continued, it turned light and dry. I awoke thirsty in the early morning hours. When the first bird twittered, I bolted upright in bed, feeling like a siren had gone off in my head. I had found morning once again, and it was not peaceful.