rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


When night is longer, there comes an hour when light begins to spill from houses. Windows pop into existence, fragments of yards appear with bits of shrubbery and maybe some flowers. Sometimes I hear faint sounds of doors closing or pans rattling or a teakettle whistling. There are no passersby here at the edge of the world. A few cars rush along the main road a block away, but for the moment the outdoors still belongs to me.

That stirring always gives me a twinge of nostalgia for the years when I was among those early risers. At the time, I was eager to abandon that pattern, and thought I would never regret its loss. I still prefer being a night person, but for those few moments each morning I do remember that time with some fondness. If I were forced to return to keeping those hours, though, I know I would soon be irritated by them. Still, it would be nice to do it once in a while, if it were not so disruptive to my schedule. This time of day looks very different when you wake to it than when it is your bed time.

Some day, when I no longer have those nightly tasks to do, I'm going to stay up all day and go to sleep when the birds do, and look at morning from the other side once again. When that will be, I don't know. But someday it will happen.

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