Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

The posts on my friend Keaton's blog have got me thinking and longing for those days when being up until 3 a.m. was something of a habit. A good habit. A comfortable habit. I love those hours that float quietly between yesterday and tomorrow, when the world sleeps—even if I know that isn't true. The world never truly sleeps... I mean, when it's the middle of my night, it's sometime the next day in Lizza's world. But then at 3 a.m., or even 4 o'clock in the middle of the United States, you don't think of afternoons in the Philippines.

I love fixing food in the middle of the night. "They" say it's bad for me. Shouldn't eat after 7:00 p.m. (or so I've heard). Of course, if you wait long enough, it's just a very early breakfast. A simple sandwhich. Usually there's peanut butter involved and a tall glass of milk. Which is usually ice cold since it's been hours since the fridge was last opened. Decades from now, I'm gonna be one of those old men who sneak downstairs and raid the fridge, eating the leftovers of the dinner his wife cooked the night before. Even if it was meant for another night's supper or maybe a sack lunch.

You sit and enjoy the delicious silence of your house—processing each sound that filters in as if it were blaring over loudspeakers. Sounds you'd never notice outside of these moments. The hum of your laptop's fan. The hypnotizing ticks of the hall clock that hasn't stopped (the other sits quietly, patiently awaiting the day you remember to wind it). The air circulating through the vents, a larger display of energy transfer than your little laptop fan can provide. A car drives by—three streets over. A train whistles; something you hadn't heard since you were young, but it's always been there... only now it comes through in the night.

Of course, nothing beats the sensation of a world gone quiet. I remember back in college, I was at my all-time favorite 24-hour diner with my buddy, Panda, and we were there until about 4:00 a.m. Paid our tab, headed outside, and I just stopped. There was a cripsness to the air. Both in temperature and in silence. No cars. No traffic. No birds or bugs chirping. The street lights were flashing yellow and even though we were at a large intersection, surrounded by commercialism— everything was asleep. Except us. The next day, just as it always was each day before, that area would be bustling and noisy and raging with life. But for those couple of moments, it was nice.

Gotta say, the best of everything happens when you should be sleeping. Staying up all night to write is one of my favorite activities. Seems I don't even really get going until well after midnight. Maybe that's because it's the only time of day I'm not scheduled. It's the only time, while my part of the globe turns away from the brilliant sun, that my brain is clear, my thoughts are pure, and I'm connected. To what? Maybe that Everywhere Spirit of which Keaton posts. Maybe the world. Maybe something I can't even fathom. Ever since I was little, going to bed at a reasonable time never felt right. And in a perfect world, I would have more chances to stay up past my bedtime and enjoy some company there.

People are at their most pure in that time between yesterday and tomorrow. The absolute best times in my life, most of them undoubtedly, happened well after midnight. Want to really get to know your best friends? That's when you should talk to them. That's when we tell our stories, our secrets, our private jokes. That's when we blog at our most sincere and vulnerable. Maybe because we're tired. Or maybe because we're the most awake and alive we've ever been.

Being a grown-up and having a grown-up job robs me of my late night musings. Rarely do I see 3:00 a.m. anymore. I get close to it. Flirt with it. Then I fall asleep well before 2:00. I long for the day—correction, the night—when staying up 'till that hour is a blessing, not a burden, and I can enjoy the calmness and inspiration the world offers at its finest hour. Skating with the Everywhere Spirit. Thanks, Keaton, for reminding me how much I enjoy that.