It is 12:30 am and I find myself sitting in front of the bright computer screen, my house completely quiet except for the occasional mumbling coming from my son's room, who has a tendency to talk in his sleep. It is one of my favorite times of day.
I love to smell the crispness of the air in the bluish light of morning. I love the fevered energy of the afternoon, when the world is alive and bustling. I love the mellow fire that dances across the sky as the sun begins its descent below the horizon.
But there is something about the night.
During the day I am able to feed off the energy that comes from the world around me to power through the many responsibilities that I carry. I am constantly distracted with the noise and demands of four children, a house that needs attention, a job that requires my complete focus, along with the deadlines associated with volunteer assignments from the kids' school and from church. My world is noise and bustle. Work and expectations. Busyness and emotional fatigue.
But at night it is quiet. I am alone with my thoughts. I can sit and dream, analyze and write, read and ponder, or just turn everything off, my mind included.
If the craziness of the day has been draining, the quiet of the night is like my personal pit stop.
Tonight I am handing my credit card over to the gas station attendant and proclaiming, "Fill it up! And don't you worry about any spills that might happen when you top it off. I know that I will need all I can get for the road tomorrow, and every drop counts...."
My name is Heather.
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