In The Still Of The Night

It was one of those mornings where you are in the most comfortable position your body has ever experienced. It’s like every muscle in your body has died and gone to heaven. Every part of your being feels calm and peaceful, for the first time in a long time, a rarity for me. It was one of those mornings where you are the absolute perfect temperature of cozy. Downy soft sheets and pillowcases, still retaining that fresh inviting scent, have lured me in and kept me sleeping in. They are soft to the touch, but at the same time, crisp and untainted from a prior evening washing. Never underestimate the power clean bedding has on one’s unconscious state of rest and relaxation.

Sleep. It’s something I get very little of due to insomnia. I get 3-4 hours of semi-decent sleep...and that’s on a good night. I toss and turn. My mind races. I count the minutes and hours that tick by. The red illuminating numbers on my alarm clock have become Public Enemy #1. And each day when the alarm goes off just before 6AM, I feel like hurling it against a wall and watching it shatter into pieces. I’m not a morning person. In fact, I hate mornings and that’s probably because I get so little sleep during the night. Although on this night, my body finally gave in. Perhaps from sheer exhausting of having to battle insomnia that even the insomnia itself needed a break. It too needs rest. And so it rested, until...

"Tweet, tweet. Tweet, tweet."

I was groggy when it began to play. I wasn’t quite sure if I was dreaming or if I had somehow slept thru the final weeks of winter. Had the season ended and a new one begun? Was that the song of Spring I heard calling? I rolled over, pulled the covers up to mid-ear and clutched the pillow lying beside me tightly to my bare chest. It can’t be morning yet. The deafening silence was still very much present in my bedroom. That black noise you hear, but have trouble describing. It’s loud, but empty. It’s fuzzy, yet clears your mind. It’s in the still of the night. You can find it there and you can find it during and after a snowfall. It’s white noise. It’s black noise. It’s unclear and intangible. It sometimes makes me think I’m losing my mind, that I’m the only one who hears it, but I’m certain that it’s there. It’s surrounding me. Puzzling me. Then the deafening silence breaks once again and I hear...

"Tweet, tweet. Tweet, tweet."

The sun had not yet risen. The morning rush hour had not yet begun. The day was not ready to start, but yet they were there. Morning birds. Early risers. Too early for the day and much too early for Spring. They lined up on a snow covered branch just outside my window sill. I was being sung to. The song? I’m not quite sure, but perhaps the classic "In The Still Of The Night"? Perhaps they wanted to break the deafening silence? Or perhaps they sensed I needed a song? I don’t know why they chose me, but I didn’t mind the serenade all that much.