I’d forgotten how much I love night time.
There are several reasons for my amnesia regarding this particular topic. For the past decade or so, my career choices have required full consciousness and a chipper demeanor at ungodly hours of the morning. It started when I took my first barista job, making mochas and warming scones at 6:00am. It continued when I began teaching high school–because, yes, 7:00am is always the perfect time to study George Orwell.
Committing to such early-bird jobs had already conditioned me to fall asleep before prime time TV even got rolling. And then I got pregnant! My capacity for dozing, naps, and all things sleep-related suddenly grew by leaps and bounds. My husband calls it prenatal narcolepsy. Whatever you call it, night and I are little more than passing acquaintances now. I may glance at the moon during one of my many midnight visits to the loo, but that’s about it.
So, tonight is the first time in a long time that I’ve been up late. It’s also the first time in awhile I’ve felt truly alone–in the best, “comfortable solitude” sense of the word. I’m enjoying the starry-night view from the window of my desk. I’m reveling in my home’s quiet nocturnal hum. And I’m remembering that this used to be my writing time, that in the summer I’d often write until exhausted and then refuel myself with a quick drive to Dairy Queen.
Warm, starry nights and a Butterfinger Blizzard: always the perfect antidote to impending block or burnout!
What’s your favorite time of day or night? When are you most inspired?