Late night musing—the phrase holds a question. What is it about the night that encourages thought? We feel an ache—a familiar one. Like something pulling at one’s heart strings; tugging so hard that it hurts. We yearn for solace and comfort. We yearn for what the fool likes to call- home. For some of us, home is the cup of hot chocolate had with the dog asleep on the lap, listening to jazz. For some it may mean the long walks with dad. Some may consider their lover’s snore home. For some, it may be the open sky and for some it is their nightly ritual of a phone call to mom and granny. But for the fool, home is concrete. For folks like me, who have no home, my cup of hot chocolate, my dog, my long walks with dad and my phone call to mom is home.
It is at this concluding period of the day that we yearn the most. We want to belong, we want to feel wanted. We want the tugging to stop. We want the warm blanket back around our heart. Even the worst of us roll in balls and clutch the pillow or the blanket tight- hope they magically turn into those people, those things we desire the most. What is it about the silence of the night that we hear our memories scream out vehemently at us? Make us question whether we are actually lonely or just scared of being alone. Why does the darkness scare us? Isn’t black just a mixture of all the colours. Why do we label the night the hour of the devil and desire?
My father says—things will look better in the morning? Why morning? Why not 3 am? Why can’t night be the new dawn? Why can’t the soul be happier at night? Just why?