Solitude Under the Moon

There is a rhythm to our days and nights.  We might not notice this current, but it's there.  My favorite time is late at night.  I know I should be sleeping.  But I lay in bed tonight, I can't sleep and instead of forcing myself, I go with the flow.  I enjoy the clean, fresh sheet on my bed and the cool, soft breeze coming through the open window, only slightly ajar.  And my cleansed and lotioned body, shampooed hair, encasing my soul which marvels at all, under the light of the full moon.

Quiet and solitude, encased in darkness and coolness.  As a mother, there have been times I have craved you during the chaotic day.  Desperately.  I will not chastise myself for not sleeping right now.  I will not zip past these magic moments of rare peace and into sleep. I will savor this.

My father would not have me sleep with my window open.  If he knew.  And if he had any control in the situation.  You know, if I wasn't 35-years-old. 

But I so dearly love the cool breeze over my face as I drift off to eventual sleep and then throughout the night. 

You see, to me, it's about savoring the things  you love.  Not necessarily the material things you love-actually, frequently it's not the material things, but rather the simple pleasures.  It's about the quality of life not necessarily quantity of life.  So if some calmity befalls me because I left my window open while I slept, know I did it because I so dearly loved the pleasure of it all the other times.