Drum.

[icebluenothing]

I don't really remember where we bought it. Pier One Imports or someplace like it. treebyleaf had been wanting a drum, and we were both really taken with this one, so I bought it for the both of us. It's a deep metal bowl, leather stretched thin across the top, wicker hand-woven in a net-like pattern along the bottom, proof it was crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of wherever.

Sometimes the drum stays at my place; usually it's at hers, where there isn't a cat who might snag a nail or two into the top of it or chew the wicker handles off.

Saturday night, I was at a party, and I ended up hiding in a bedroom. Too many people, and too many popping balloons, going off every few minutes like gunshots. I was a nervous wreck and trying to keep from having an anxiety attack.

I noticed that drumming on things seemed to be calming me, a little. Drumming on balloons, ironically enough. Drumming on the cat. Whatever was in reach. I commented on this to treebyleaf and she was determined to send our drum home with me.

Last night, going back to bed for the last time, I remembered this and hauled out the drum and dragged it into bed with me. Curled up around it and tapped it with my fingers. Felt absurdly comforted.

I had to smile in the dark when I realized what I'd made here, with all these blankets and this drum. My own little womb, complete with heartbeat.