My wristband buzzes me awake, not in a shocking, sudden way, but in a persistent low-frequency hum. I tap it without looking to turn it off and stare into the space of my bedroom as my eyes and my mind adjust to being awake. A quiet solitude fills my house at this hour, an ungodly one to most.
My wife sleeps next to me, still in her slumber. She lays on her left side cuddled up on her side of the bed. The warmth of our bed beckons me to stay, but I know I have to start my day. Now. Before I leave the comfort of this space, I roll over next to her and wrap my arms around her, this beautiful woman. In the ambient light, I can make out the curves of her body, the hallmark of her attractiveness. I gently move my hand along her side and kiss her on her back. She doesn’t stir. I don’t want to wake her; I just want to leave this one token of my love for her.
The day ahead calls like a screaming baby in the middle of the night. I pull away from my wife and leave her to sleep for another hour or two. I move in the dark to avoid waking her, slipping out of the bedroom and down the stairs to start my day. The day awaits impatiently, and I jump on the fast-moving treadmill that thrusts me through the long, stress-laden hours that I barely remember when all is said and done.
The day starts with perfect clarity in those predawn hours. My mind is sharp and alive with intriguing thoughts. My creativity bursts at the seams, like a genie rattling around in a bottle that could explode. In these precious few hours when I can think of things that really interest me, I let these thoughts roam free until I have to herd them all into a corner of my mind and begin the march toward the tiresome routine I have followed for more than two decades.
Tiresome. That’s a word that captures the essence of what becomes of me as the day zips by like a meteor ripping through the night sky. The sharp-edged rock of my day gets worn down by the incessant waves of never-ending demands and imagined pressures until it is worn smooth and benign.
I limp home joining a depressing chorus of zoned-out office workers on the train. I escape into my book for the train ride, my final escape from the harrowing day. Sleep calls for me in the slow-motion dance before bedtime. The weight of the day is no longer bearable by the time I return to my bed next to my wife.
Once again in the darkness of our bedroom, my body collapses into the mattress. My mind suddenly finds a spark before I push all thoughts aside to get some much-needed sleep. My wife, in her favorite position on her left side, slowly drifts off to sleep. I push myself next to her and wrap my arms around her listening to the soothing rhythm of her breathing as she finds sleep, a rhythm I know so well. It is here in the darkness next to the woman I love more than anything that I finally see the day for what it is, another opportunity to be alive and to love this woman. I kiss her on the back again before I too succumb to sleep.