3am

Waking up abruptly, I stare wide eyed at the clock on top of the armoire. It’s 2:55. My hours are 8pm to 3am so I‘m right on time.. Although I appreciate the comfort of the bed, as soon as my eyes open it feels more like a cell, confinement. There’s a laundry list of things to do waving for attention in my head like the human signs who dance on the side of the road, bullying other, more serene thoughts. The TV is spewing in the great room, ignored by Carla as she taps away on her keyboard, occasionally laughing at posts from her musher friend in Alaska. Then she’s singing off key to Johnathan Edwards and the Seldom Scene vocals on “Blue Ridge”. She’s in her big chair, curled up like a cat on soft pillows with matching cable knit Afghans. Strong coffee, fresh ground, calls to me. My favorite time of day. Carla tapping her fingers with the occasional glance up at a Gorilla gently showing off her baby on the Geographic channel, I have the kitchen to myself. Peering down into the great room from the window over the sink, all I can see of Carla is her knees. Dogs sleep around her as if they had been tranquilized and thrown up into the air to land in seemingly torturous positions that oddly encourage deep sleep punctuated by flailing legs and low growls for assorted villains in their dreams. Juicing oranges from our tree, frying powdered cakes of crab, shrimp, and fish, Pandora plays classic country tunes; old friends. Merle sings of “livin right and being free…” as I prepare a small plate for Carla. Her appreciation is high on my list. “How do you like the crab cakes? I added diced green onions this time. Paula Dean has a recipe that uses them.” Coffee in hand, I’ll go nest with Carla in the big chair. We talk, share time, warmth, agreement. But ultimately I can’t sit still and have to go into another room to tap my own fingers on my own keyboard. By 6am I suggest: “You look sleepy, don’t you want to go into the bed?” She vehemently denies any need for sleep. Five minutes later she’s out cold. Turning off all the electronics and darkening down the room as the sun just begins to color the sky, I head back to my computer to catch up and start my day. At these times, everything is in balance. Appreciation of that fact reminds me of what I recently told a young friend of their new baby: “Cherish every minute, it all happens at lighting speed.” and I make a mental note to take my own advice.