I’ve been waking up at 5:00 AM without an alarm.
I don’t know when the habit started, but it’s a part of me now.
In the quiet before the city stirs, my mind does a strange bit of time travel.
5:00 AM used to be when I went to bed.
When the next after-parties were waiting. When I was simply too high to force my eyes shut. When we enjoyed the perks of being nocturnal animals.
When, very much like a hyperactive child, there simply wasn’t enough time in the dark to do all that we intended to.
I thought I’d always stay nocturnal. Every version of my future seemed to begin after sunset.
Isn’t it funny, the things we mistake for permanent?
The morning symphony of chirping birds no longer announces a death sentence. Now I catch myself nodding good morning to the birds.
5:00 AM doesn’t specifically mean anything in the present. Merely a quiet companion. The same neighborhood has enough room to hold completely different lives.
It just so happens the woman I love wakes up before dawn.
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