Routines

Every night before I fall asleep, I push aside my curtains to take a peek at the still, dark world outside. Sometimes I’ll catch a priceless glimpse of a huge, bright moon, floating in the clear sky above. Other times, the sky is a cloudy purple color, tinged orange by the lights of the main street a block away. Once in a while, the moon won’t be visible, but the outside world is bathed in its silvery light, with every shape illuminated and every shadow a deep, inky black.

Seeing the expanse of sky and stars and clouds inspires me. It reminds me of my dreams. It reminds me that I have room to grow, and that I have all the time I need, despite the deadlines and due dates that seem to rule my life.

If I am having a rough day, I’ll rest my forehead against the cool glass of my window, and the subtly lit outside world will put a smile on my face. The nocturnal world in a suburb is preciously undiscovered. It is a metaphor for all there is left for me in the world, in the future that I anxiously await.

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