It's about 12:30 as I begin writing this. I meant to be in bed about 3 hours ago due to a migraine I could feel coming on. I still had dishes to wash and some floors to sweep and then my mom came home and we stayed up later. Excedrin was taken and caffeine began working. Migraine is gone and awake I stay.
Reuben isn't home yet. It's strange to me how he can function rather normally the next day after being out all night and then doing it again and again. Last night was his turn for family prayer, I took his place and then Stef said it tonight since he wasn't here. I wonder when he'll be home. The kitchen and dining room lights are on for him. I almost want to turn them off and hear him stumble on his way to his room just so I know when he gets in.
Sometimes I enjoy this caffeine-induced inability to sleep. I watch cars drive by on lonely roads and wonder where they are going. I don't like when cars drive in clusters. I get distracted by the several headlights and don't know what to think. They're unwelcome as I watch them pass. I lose track of their identities. Was it a truck or a van? Was he racing home or leaving? Is the family alright? Did her children go to sleep tucking themselves into their beds because Mother wasn't home?
When I was younger and I had difficulty sleeping I would find myself in our living room counting the cars driving down Ferry Road. And later as I grew a little older, I would find myself walking the streets of my neighborhood when I couldn't sleep wondering why people were driving passed me and where they were going so late and whose family was missing him or her.
I listen to the rush of cars down 3005. I would liken the sound to waves, speeding waves. Perhaps a recording of waves fast-forwarded to sound like cars rushing down 3005. Oh wait.
I'm not sure what to do. This drug-induced insomnia makes me feel alive. The near-silent black of night holds more magic for me than a sunrise on the horizon or the majesty of the Rocky Mountains or a symphony performing the most amazing piece of music.
This darkness presents opportunity for light to reveal itself.
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