11:11 pm

Once again, I am wide awake.

I am no longer fighting it. I am fully giving in to my circadian rhythms, which, apparently, I have been fighting against for most of my life in attempting to lead a normal life on a normal up-during-the-day sleep-at-night kind of schedule.

I get up at a decent hour – usually by 7:30. Super productive in the morning, until about 2 pm and then I crash hard. So now I nap for about an hour each day. I wake up, get going, and am productive and alert until 9 pm when I snuggle into bed and fall right to sleep.

And get right back up at 11pm for at least another hour.

It’s weird but it works. For me.

It’s not as easy when you share a bed with someone. He’s a farmer with a sunup to sundown schedule.

I am neither a morning person nor an evening gal.

We always go to sleep together, but then I am back up roaming around the house in the dark, snuggling on the couch with one or the other of the dogs.

Sometimes I read a book. Sometimes I play Scrabble on the computer. Sometimes I lie quietly, feet tucked underneath my accomodating couch mate until my system slows down and I can return to bed.

Always, I go outside for at least a few minutes.

His house or mine, we both have quiet, dark nights.

A million stars. The mountains lit up by the full moon. The desert wind blowing cold in my face. Dreamy snow floating down to hide away the pastures for the winter. The steady beat of the side rolls, “ch ch ch ch ch ch ch…”

I can feel the moisture in the air but it’s too dark to see the plumes of water in the brisk nighttime blackness.

I’ve come to love my late-night parties of one.

It feels private and almost secretive and somewhat other worldly and decadent and spiritual. I believe that I am connecting to myself in ways that I don’t during the daylight hours.

It is so peaceful. And even though I realize that part of why I am not sleeping during these hours could be the same reason that I now grind my teeth all night, (admittedly I might be a tad bit stressed), these hours are not about angst. This is what my body has wanted for the last 54 years.

But I don’t actually feel as if my mind is spinning and keeping me up. No, it’s calm and peace and quiet and solitude, all under the cover of the night, when the rest of the world is still asleep.

It feels slightly naughty.

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