4:30 in the morning is very quiet. Also very dark.
My cat watches me from over there. She thinks I have come down to feed her. I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept drifting from my Stones bio and I wandered downstairs by the light of my son’s nightlight.
I haven’t turned the tree lights on. It stands by the back window, glittering with silver and gold and pink and blue and green balls. The angel stands straight.
I’m going to be 47 tomorrow.
It is true what they say, how inside your head you are still a kid. I may know how to pay bills online and I can drive and I can feed my kids and fill the fridge with nutritious (mostly) food. But inside me, I am still scared a lot. I am dreamy and wishful and awkward and emotional. I struggle to figure people out and I struggle to figure myself out.
When I talk with my daughter, I don’t feel so much older than she is. I may be more realistic (hate that word) which is part of growing up. But I know her confusions and her embarrassments. I love hearing the things that make her giggle.
You don’t giggle when you are almost 47 the way you giggle when you are 10.
My cat is gone. It is cold at 5 in the morning in our house.