It’s 5:30am and I’m awake. I’ve been back from a trip for a week yet the lag keeps this night owl to early hours. Each day is a little less so but every time this happens upon return from travel I relish the semi darkness of early morning, the light struggling to emerge. And the quiet. Although it’s quiet where I live it’s especially so in early hours. But sometimes when I break into consciousness I’m aware of being alone. Especially after the extreme (for me) social nature of this trip. Now I’m thrown back onto myself and it’s up to me to move out of the alone space to the communal, as in communing with others. When you’re an introvert it’s a chore, something to be intentional about.
But I’m not really alone. There is Harry, the cat. Pets take up space no matter how small they are. Their bodies hold souls that are big. So big that the second I’m awake I know if Harry is in the house or not. Ever since my husband, err dog, Paco died it’s just been me and Harry on a voyage of discovery. Paco took up a lot of emotional space so Harry kept to his super independent ways of catting around. He’s an unrepentant outdoor cat, unable to be contained but over time his adventures have been more centered on our street where he’s become the de facto mayor, greeting pedestrians and pups. Now he’s becoming more affectionate, occasionally laying on top of my chest in the early hours purring loudly. He’s not a lightweight and if I even shift slightly he’s off again. Cats are not planners. They respond to every stimuli which sets them off on another task, like people with ADHD. Those mornings when I awake and he’s on the bed sleeping I’m happy. I just wish he could make me that morning cup of coffee.
Reading that inspired this post:
The Lonely Stories: 22 Celebrated Writers on the Joys & Struggles of Being Alone by Natalie Eve Garrett
Its 5:24am.. I awake to the “holy darkness” and all I want to let into my mind and soul is birdsong and Dexter’s gentle urging to let him “owt”. He must do his morning rounds of the porch to dutifully note the nocturnal visitors who have come past his Adirondack chair.
It’s nice to know a fellow wanderer on this Journey cherishes this time of day, before the noise and clutter of the world seeps in, as we cling to our numinous peace.
Lovely. Hope you have some local birds who come alive with the light. The sound is so comforting.