Insomnia...

makes you think. About people who aren't plagued with insomnia. As I'm hanging around, wide awake while the world around me sleeps, I can't help noticing the nightlife of my neighborhood. I live in a small subdivision, and I'm not the only one awake in the very wee hours.

We hardly ever see movement from the house across the street. Folks--maybe one folk, come to think of it--moved in last fall. We saw the contractors getting the house ready for it's walk-through. We saw moving vans and lots of people who looked like family. One day a car full of those family-looking people let an older man out at the bottom of the driveway, which resembles Everest a little. He made it up that driveway, which taxed me as I climbed it when we looked at that house.

Anyway, we looked forward to a busy family in our small selection of neighbors, but no one goes in, and no one comes out. Until about midnight-to-twelve-thirty each night/early morning. When a car starts up the driveway and then hits the gas about midway, finding it less easy to climb that man did.

About the same time, a kitty drops by the front door to taunt our kitty with its freedom. My family is often long since asleep, but Kitty, shouting abuse at the free spirit flaunting its liberty can wake them up.

Around two-to-two-thirty, a car comes into the neighborhood, circles the cul-de-sac, and goes back out. I always mean to station myself at the windows to see if the police are doing a patrol, but I never have.

I'm so used to this cycle that I notice when it's broken by a strange visitor, or when the usual arrivals are early or late. It doesn't sound like a lot when I write it down like this, but to someone waiting for sleep, it feels like a lot of life outside my windows, and I'm always glad for the company--for anyone who's also awake while most of the world sleeps.