No, I won't start with the book, or the saga, or Edward, gorgeous Edward, I'm just thinking about this time of the day. I don't know what happens inside me when I see, or feel, the sun sinking down; the day coming to an end. It's very strange because as the sun descends in the sky, I feel my heart become heavier, for however long the earth lingers between day and night. When the stars start to twinkle, I'm surprised at how much I love the night sky, the quiet of the night, uninterrupted hours of reading. When I was little, about 5 or 6, and for many years, I was terrified of the night. Not only the dark, but nighttime. I remember my little thin sad-faced self, looking through the dining room window, which faced west, to the orange setting sun. Now that I'm not so irrationally afraid of the night anymore (please note I haven't said I'm not afraid anymore, just not irrationally so), I just get a little melancholy when the day ends. Surprisingly, I've noticed that in the winter, when it's dark at 5:00 pm in Utah, I really don't get this feeling. But in the Spring and Summer, the dread becomes unbearable. In order to fight it, I try to be doing something fun, or spiritual, or labor intensive when twilight arrives, like working in the yard, playing with my kids, having Family Home Evening. What is it? Do I get sad because another day is ending? Another day of my life? Of my kids' childhoods? Another day far from home? Another day of what?
My children know me. They know my moods and my times. We try to have cheerful bedtimes and rituals, to end the day peacefully, with the angels. But today we were at the pool for 5 hours, and they're exhausted. They all fell asleep, one by one, a little bit before 7. It has to be an all-time record, and I'm all alone, with a book and my mate, gazing at the window now and then.
As suddenly as it comes, the melancholy leaves. It's the night. Gorgeous Boy wakes up and says, "It's the night, wow!" I just nod in acknowledgement and look at the window. Tomorrow will be another day. I hope is as fun as the one we just had, at least.