Nightlife

This is one of my older Dutch logs. Some of them are very precious to me. I would like to share them with you even if they do lose some of their strength or character due to translation.

At the end of the night, just before dawn awakes they come to visit. Using the emptiness in my well rested head to let me know they are still there. During the day the space is too filled for them to have a high profile. Friends and foes (old and new) family and vague acquaintances, all of whom, despite their vagueness, somehow seemed to have left a lasting impression. Alternately they make their entry. Sometimes a presence startles me. Banned from my life a long time ago, but still lingering in my mind. Some manage to bring back tears. Goodbyes said but I still did not come to terms. Anger about those that irritate me, keep hassling me, even at night. One thing they all have in common. They wake me up. In the stillness of the bedroom I sometimes try to hold on to the feeling by not opening my eyes and to keep the image moving as if projected forever in my brain. Only sounds penetrate. The breathing of my husband. Extensive scratching of the dog, despite the limitations of her basket. The child on the other side of the wall turns around in his sleep.
For a short time I am alone with my thoughts. The sound of the alarm slowly wakes up the rest of the house. The pace of life takes over once again, to be followed by yet another night.