Some say night owls are rebels and that staying up late is a quiet Act of Defiance, a way of reclaiming time stolen by the day. Some say it’s for pressing deadlines. But me? I have no job. I spend the entire day with Ben. My blood pressure doesn’t thank me for late nights, yet here I am – eyes open long past midnight. I set 2300 as my bedtime and yet I frequently turn off the PC past 0100.
Maybe I’m still looking for The Unforgettable Fire. Maybe I’m walking down The Street with No Name, chasing something I can’t quite name. Maybe I’m still trying to tell the difference between life With or Without You. Perhaps, the only thing I can be sure is that I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking for.
When Kathleen was here, nights were different. We’d exchange banter, watch CSI and Criminal Minds and NCIS, rain tapping out its Electrical Storm, talking until All I Want Is You was the only truth we knew. Some evenings we’d just be quiet, letting One moment stretch into forever.
Now, the silence feels longer. But in the small hours, I find pieces of her – in a song, in the echo of her laughter, in the way the moonlight touches the floor.
Maybe I stay up late because part of me still hopes for that Beautiful Day when I see her again. Until then… I press on.
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