It’s late at night.
The sun set hours and hours before now.
Everyone in the world seems to be silently sleeping.
Everyone but me.
Why is it that I have this sudden feeling of being awake?
I should have fallen asleep, fallen into my visions of sugarplums and not being a lifelong geek long ago.
No, there is a tingling in my fingertips and toes, like when a song comes quietly out of the radio while you’re at a very serious meeting, and all you can think about is how much you ache to twist that song into full volume, and to dance and sing along.
Suddenly, I feel alive.
Suddenly, the world is my oyster.
There are so many things I would rather be doing than sleeping.
I know the college kids from the mint green house across the street would agree.
They’re blasting music from their speakers and all I can hear is the muffled cry of awake it brings to them.
Even my parents agree with me.
I can hear them laughing over glasses of wine in the dining room, and Mom is still eating her pasta dinner because she just came home from work and all she’s had is sparkling water and a granola bar and perhaps a cheese sandwich.
Maybe my brother is still awake too.
Maybe, even if he seems like the type to fall asleep before everyone else does and not wake up even if you scream in his ear (I know this because we shared a room until even a bit after I was way too old to still be sharing a room with my brother).
Maybe he pulls up the covers, but under his eyelids he never falls asleep, just dreams glorious day dreams in the middle of the night, just like I do.
Just like I do every night.
I’m so awake, but right now I’m confined to my room.
Right now I’m staying in bed.
The velvet blackness encases me.
The wind is like lace, the clouds are like thread around the bursting moon.
I curl into the darkness like it’s a nest.
I give in to the silky black night.
I fall asleep.