light show

At 1:20 a.m., I woke up.  I evidently had been snoozing quite nicely, but something was disturbing my sleep.  Then it happened again - a bright light flashing against my closed eyelids.  Then the distant rumble.  A sweet summer thunder storm.  I had to get up and go to the balcony to watch a bit of the light show.

At first it was too distant; the light was bright, but was not always accompanied by sound.  None of the sharp flashes of eerie fingers pointing to the earth.  The storm did slowly cross south, bringing all of the elements with it.  I watched the light reflecting off the dozens of buildings at various angles making it hard to tell where it was coming from.  The glass buildings seemed to refract the light even more, as though there were a huge maze of mirrors, each sending the light to further illuminate the city.  I was too sleepy to watch for very long, so I returned to bed with the blinds wide open and kept my eyes open as long as I could.  I love a good storm as long as there are no tornados threatening to hoist me away.

The other light show at 1:20 a.m. on a Sunday night (Monday morning) was the hundreds of cars weaving their way through town.  I can't help but wonder who are all these people driving through Chicago, or riding in cabs driving through Chicago, in the middle of the night.  I realize it's a holiday weekend, but weren't Friday and Saturday enough?  Lacy reminded me that someone has to work in the bars and restaurants, so maybe they're all workers headed home.  It's the country in me, I know, that is puzzled by the amount of activity at any time of the day or night.  I'd really be torn up in New York City, I'm sure - it's Chicago multiplied by 100.  If New York is the city that never sleeps, Chicago must be the city that only naps now and then.

I'm a little jealous of people that have the motivation to go out when I'm going to bed, and return home shortly before I'm waking up.  What an exciting life, I'm sure.  But how much of the day do they miss? Do they ever see the early morning sun rising over the lake?  Or smell fresh baked pastries?  Or see the runners and dog-walkers and think "this is going to be a glorious morning"?  Their glorious morning is from midnight to 3 a.m. and I'm sure there are lots of wonderful things that can happen in that timeframe.  My morning is quieter (except for the garbage trucks), slower, more conducive to serene thoughts than dreams.  I guess I'm old but I've never been able to pass up a beautiful day, even if I'm inside looking out at it.

Instead of a light show bouncing off the disco ball, my light show is a steady stream of sunshine.  Boring, maybe, but I'm okay with that.  I can't do all night like I used to, and even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to very often.  It's not the 3 a.m. that gets me - it's wasting the entire day following because I'm too tired or hungover to do anything at all.  I'd rather miss the party and enjoy the morning