I’ve just woken up from my nap. I went to sleep sometime after four, and it’s now just after eight in the evening. No one else is asleep, but my bedroom door is closed. Until my mother comes in to tell me that dinner is ready, I am able to enjoy this time by myself.
While not quite the same, over the summertime I had the joy of experiencing being the only one awake in the whole house. I felt so creative, sitting in the silence of my room, effectively cut off from the rest of the world. While everyone else slept, stories were born and ideas took their first steps. Friendships were made and solidified. I discovered new and exciting ways to look at the world, without having to worry about being interrupted. All I had to do was maintain some modicum of quiet, so as to not disturb the resting. It felt perfect.
Since I’m back at university, there are very rare late nights when I can indulge myself in this way. I’ve had to trade the ritual for going to sleep earlier, in order to wake up earlier, so I can begin another busy day. That’s why, right now, I’m choosing to stay in my room until dinner is ready. There is very little noise outside my bedroom door, where the living room awaits. The only sounds I hear are those of the wind gusting outside, my ceiling fan spinning, and the keys on my keyboard being tapped as I write.