Perchance To Dream

 I have a very visceral memory of carrying my newborn son around the house in the middle of the night when he could not, would not, go to sleep. I showed him the darkness in every corner. We looked out the windows and I told him that all those people out there were asleep because it was time to be asleep. We sometimes went out in the back yard where I showed him that even the birds had closed their eyes to get some rest before a new day began. 

All of this was mostly performative since what I was truly after was a few extra hours of shuteye for myself. The sun would be coming up soon and I had no vested interest in greeting it. In the big picture, it wasn't long before he was sleeping through the night, and not long after that he became a special project to wake up when it was time to face the world of middle school. 

It was during this time of transition that my own sleep schedule started slipping back as my morning responsibilities at school began to require earlier rising. As days grew shorter, I began to need a light on my bike to find my way depending on how much daylight was being saved. This has necessitated me climbing into bed shortly after the sun has gone down in order to find that elusive and somewhat arbitrary eight hours. 

The thought of "getting enough sleep" seems like something that I can aspire to once I have actually become a retired person. Now that my son is all grown up and discovering his own circadian rhythms I try not to let on that since I am more than twice his age and I have yet to unlock the secret to "a good night's sleep," I am just pleased as punch to face the day feeling somewhat refreshed. 

It pains me just a little when I consider that the guy who once sang a song called "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead," is no longer among the living. 

I can always take a little walk into the back yard to listen to those snoring birds.