Oma asks me this same question every night. It doesn’t matter if it’s 10:00pm on her way to her room, or 3:00am for her midnight snack, she’ll walk by my door, and ask, “are you still up?”
And it’s not that she’s actually asking me; she just points it out, in case I didn’t realize what time it is. (Which I normally don’t, but I can usually guess around when it is.)
Staying up late is such a normal thing for me, that if I fall asleep at a normal hour (like around 9 o’clock), I’ll wake up around 3am and not be able to fall back asleep for a couple of hours. It is super rare when I can sleep a good amount of hours on weeknights, so that’s most likely why I cherish it so much on the weekends.
But, you see, it’s not just me. While every other house on the block have their lights out by eleven (the latest), my house is still up and around. Well, except for maybe Brianna, but that’s because she can be a real menace if she doesn’t get her nine hours every night. But between Oma, myself, and my dad, we’re still watching TV, playing with the dogs, or doing whatever else it is that we do. Usually Oma’s reading, Dad’s watching sports or a documentary or a game show, and I’m watching whatever I’m into at the moment, or listening to music.
I think staying up late has some perks. For one thing, it’s usually when I get stuff done. Usually when I get home from work, I want nothing to do except lie in my bed (because, ya know, I’m lazy), so I give myself a couple of hours to eat dinner and relax, and then I’ll work on writing, or read, or do my laundry, or clean my room.
A lot of the time, it’s laundry and cleaning my room. I actually feel kind of bad, because Oma’s room shares a wall with mine, so I can only imagine how much she hears me rummaging around all night. Or when I through a little concert, and dance around like a fool—there’s no way she doesn’t hear that. My poor, poor grandma.
Nighttime, in my opinion, is the best time. I must have mentioned at least once before how I’ve always had a fascination and admiration for the moon and the stars. Actually, just the other night, Amanda and I went outside around 2am to see if we could catch any of the meteor shower. She didn’t see anything, and I was pretty sure that I saw one shooting star, but that was it. But I did see more stars than I usually get to see around my house, and that was really cool.
As weird as it may sound, I’ve always felt safe and serene in the dark, so being someone who constantly stays up late doesn’t bother me. It’s almost like my whole world calms down, and I can breathe.
Have you ever just went outside really late at night, and took deep breaths? It’s really something. The world looks different in the dark; for some, it’s scary, and for others, it’s beautiful. For me, it’s like a romantic change in the scenery. I love how different it is from the busy, bright days. Everyone is in their homes, sleeping, and the world turns cold and silent. The sky opens up, and the stars come out to play. It’s my favorite.
I wonder if anybody else enjoys that as much as I do. I actually think I’m even going to start learning where constellations are. That ought to be fun.
Prompt: Write about staying up late at night.