I never quite understood night owls. People up until high hours are knocked down to small numbers. People who sleep their way to double digits again.
When I woke at 4 this morning, it was just me and the winter rain, like an old friend returned and calling me from the clapboards of the house, the newly-running gutters, the softly-gurgling drains.
Like me, every window is dark and reflective now. The world has constricted to the small circle of light I sit in with this book. It’s just the author, whispering, and me, listening, only occasionally interrupting in that complementary back-and-forth writers and readers have honored since Gutenberg.
The family still sleeps. The old dog, who got up briefly, settles at my feet, patiently waiting for my morning moment to expire so we can go out to meet the rain.
But first, this silence. This coffee. This book. All at a time when anything seems possible and everything feels refreshed and new.
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4 thoughts on “All This, Before Dawn…”
This resonates! Most of my first book was written during those silent hours when I was awake with only my thoughts to keep me company. I have always cherished the time before anybody else awakens. It feels sacred.
That’s a great word for it: sacred.
Agreed. My retirement night owl schedule is very dear to me. I’m amazed I functioned in the daily work schedule for over 40 years.
And yet most accounts of great writers has them up all hours of the night, burning not only the midnight oil, but the 3 a.m. oil. No doubt there are writers in both camps.