me and 6am
Driving to the airport this morning I couldn’t help but admire the world at 6am. It’s not often that I’m awake at this hour and I took the time to think about what 6am on Saturday means to people. For most, a night’s slumber is almost at an end. For those still at a club or partying, the approaching daylight marks that awkward transition from the wonderfully mysterious and energising world of darkness to the bright, unforgiving world of the day (especially if you’re feeling particularly fragile). The thing with those dozing hours where you half wake up, nod back off, mini dream and try to forget the coming sunrise is that it also marks the end of the innocence that sleep brings.
When we’re awake we have to deal with life, whatever that happens to be. Even the most trivial of concerns is still a concern, and the older you get the further and further you go from that childhood innocence where a tree or a handful of dirt could make your day. When you’re asleep however, that innocence has returned. You’re safe in your own mind, under your blanket and for some, sharing it with someone next to you. Perhaps someone you met merely hours before, perhaps someone you’ve known as long as you feel you’ve known yourself, but those soft touches of skin, the arm which slowly drapes over and the curving of each other’s bodies all combines to help you fight back the morning just that little bit longer.
Life is pretty good, in my opinion. In fact, I could write a lot of good things about life. The escape to sleep land isn’t something I crave to escape life, but I love it for that brief visit it allows each night back to being a carefree child. I love knowing that at least for the next few hours I don’t need to do anything other than allow my mind to go wherever it likes. Regardless if you’re alone, a big spoon or a little spoon, there is something magical about being able to sleep each night and return, ever so fleetingly, to that youthful innocence that, once lost, is never truly recovered.
When we’re awake we have to deal with life, whatever that happens to be. Even the most trivial of concerns is still a concern, and the older you get the further and further you go from that childhood innocence where a tree or a handful of dirt could make your day. When you’re asleep however, that innocence has returned. You’re safe in your own mind, under your blanket and for some, sharing it with someone next to you. Perhaps someone you met merely hours before, perhaps someone you’ve known as long as you feel you’ve known yourself, but those soft touches of skin, the arm which slowly drapes over and the curving of each other’s bodies all combines to help you fight back the morning just that little bit longer.
Life is pretty good, in my opinion. In fact, I could write a lot of good things about life. The escape to sleep land isn’t something I crave to escape life, but I love it for that brief visit it allows each night back to being a carefree child. I love knowing that at least for the next few hours I don’t need to do anything other than allow my mind to go wherever it likes. Regardless if you’re alone, a big spoon or a little spoon, there is something magical about being able to sleep each night and return, ever so fleetingly, to that youthful innocence that, once lost, is never truly recovered.