Night time is possibly my favourite part of the day – no pun intended. I was never a morning person: too much stuff to get done and worry about. At night I come to rest. Time flows differently at night: it meanders and shifts with my thoughts, whirling or adrift.
The world is devoid of other people’s noise: no cars, trains, music – so I can feel utterly alone. I am comforted by the calls of the two types of owls in the woods behind the house. When the owls are around nothing ominous is, they are at ease, hunting and calling out to each other. Eating some vermin too, hopefully. Sometimes I hear foxes bark across the woods.
Worries unravel while I sit listening to the owls. Solutions present themselves virtually unprompted. I spend more time committing them to memory for use the next day than actually undoing the knots I have tied myself in. So much so I sometimes park something I am struggling with during the day, confident I will wake up at night and deal with it then.
I used to get all worked up when I was awake at night: lost sleep affects busy life. Maybe that was a remnant from the years when I had babies who were awake at all hours, needing me. That was draining. The babies are teenagers now, but I still relish a moment to myself. Night, I have discovered, is just the best time for that. Only the dog gets to share those moments every now and then. Because she is so cute.