The Witching Hour
It's that time of the day when I can hardly sleep. It was my most productive time for me to clean while the rest of the world sleeps. The stories of the cobbler's elves doing his work in the middle of the night or the extra noises in the house were likely just those of us whose schedules seem to be closer to those on the other side of the world.
When I was deployed to the other side of the world, I still worked the Witching Hour. Watching for indications and warnings of threats while everyone else sleeps has been my habit for almost three decades. Not constantly, but a regular rotation that has seemed to take over my internal clock.
The past couple days we've had a virus running through the family and it was finally my turn. I ended up sleeping most of the day rather than working on my to do list. The little bit that I did write didn't get published, so those words will be saved for another day.
Black Friday is upon us. That time of year where companies begin to turn a profit on all the bets they had made, and I can help but hope that maybe people will choose to keep their own accounts in the black instead of searching for more that they don't need.
I say this because I'm the worst. I know I fall into periods of retail therapy hoping that the trinket will bring smiles that last, but they never do. The long march that seems too slow, but also too fast continues to grip the soul. The loneliness that is felt no matter how many people surround us is a plague, but what if you let someone in?
Do you feel like the darkness in your mind would swallow anyone who got close? Do you worry that if any person knew the venom wrapped around your soul, they would never stay? This is what the Witching Hour is for. To ponder the thoughts kept buried and only those willing to meet during the Witching Hour will truely understand the burden we bare.
