No regrets, Coyote
It's 2:30 in the morning and I'm drinking coffee, getting ready to start my day. I remember when 2:30 am felt linked to the day before, when it was part of the night. Now, for me it has come unhooked from the preceding day, has come to feel like morning for real. The strangest part is how ordinary it has become. I remember staying up all night in college, the easy push from 2 to 3, the misery of 4, the second wind at 6. This is different. Back then I knew that while I wrote (for almost always when I stayed up, I stayed up to write), most people I knew were sleeping, and that usually I would be sleeping, too. It's easy to forget now that the hours I keep are, in fact, pretty odd. But odd they are, and having remembered, I wanted make note of it...
If you ever one morning buy fresh-baked rolls or bagels or muffins, spare a thought for the man or woman like me who made them dreamily while you slept.
If you ever one morning buy fresh-baked rolls or bagels or muffins, spare a thought for the man or woman like me who made them dreamily while you slept.