Night is ever the seducer. He whispers in my ear and tells me I can do that one more thing before bed. He fills the night with a soft, quite peace and whispers promises of fun to be had. But Morning is waiting for me when he leaves and she is an uncompromising bitch.
Night makes all sorts of compromises. I can have fun with friends, or I can enjoy the solitude. I can read one more chapter, write one more story. I can do one more chore or have one more conversation.
Morning refuses to cooperate. Her schedule is inflexible. She demands productivity. Immediately. Compromise is not in Morning’s vocabulary.
I know this.
And yet… Night is always tempting and I am bad at saying no.
Some nights I try.
I try to resist his siren song and when I succeed I meet Morning on a level playing field, but other nights he fights back.
On those nights he hangs the stars so low in a moonless, clear sky you feel as though you could pluck them down. But, of course, you can’t. Still they hover above, another temptation in the dark, and the wanting gets to you and it makes you restless. If you can’t play with the stars you at least have to move. You have to sing, dance, love, cry, you have to feel those nights. Those are the nights filled with tossing and turning. Those are the nights that normally sleeping dogs pace the house and kids wake up with nightmares.
Night compromises but at his heart he will always be a seducer. He doesn’t play fair and he takes what he wants in the end.
And Morning, she is always waiting, hard faced and uncaring on the other side.
I’m constantly lured into poor decisions in my love affair with Night.
Morning and I exist on a battlefield littered with broken alarm clocks and spent tea bags.
But between them lives Nap and we have the sweetest of relationships.