Embrace of the Night

FD Thornton

Awakened by a shout, I once again find myself typing at 3:58 in the morning. Enviously listening to my wife as she sleeps so soundly next to me. Seemingly without a care in the world, her rest is unbroken by a hateful and merciless world. There are no children pounding on the ceiling at the moment, hopefully they are sound asleep. Leaving only me and those doing mischief to the embrace of the night.

In years past I would be sitting on my porch smoking a pipe. A noble habit I thought I’d never break. Now I’m just a loose skinned shell of myself, struggling to put words together to keep the attention of a ten-year-old grandchild. Still I embrace the darkness like an old friend, the kind of friend you don’t brag about in the light of day. Telling each other our secrets and desires, the ones you just assume keep hid from the mornings light. For the day is left to those with the perfect smile, the perfect shot. Where lies are handed out like so much penny candy.

But it’s now 4:20 in the morning, nearly time for the early birds to awake. For the gathers in the darkness to hide in their shelters and for lovers to walk in shame to their sacred homes. In a room lit up like the red light district of East Broad Street. The whole room takes on a different tone. Where words flow a bit differently and lessons learnt aren’t as plentiful. For darkness requires a different personality, one not so dependent on others approval.