Wake up at 0150 because I am female and fifty-one, and drenched in sweat.
Get up and take a shower.
Come back to bed, see a missed call from a cute guy.
Why would someone call at 0124 and not leave a message?
Why would someone call at 0124 at all?
Still. Someone was thinking about me. Nice.
Back to bed. Still too hot to sleep. Not *that* kind of hot.
Start to read “Bird By Bird” and must recognize that I can see why it reminded someone of me.
Annie Lamott talking about her early memories of reading and writing.
I don’t remember the time before I knew how to read, but I do remember Daniel Boone.
One of my first memories.
Splayed out on the living room floor with a big orange Child Craft book that belonged to my father.
Trying to read myself a story about Daniel Boone.
Frustrated.
I was so close to reading, and just couldn’t quite.
And it knew that everything was in there. In the books. I needed to be able to read them.
Three? Four?
Suddenly on the page, the word moon was there.
It seemed huge on the page somehow.
One second, just scrambled letters. Then so obvious.
Moon.
That is the first word I remember knowing how to read.
Moon. Glowing like the actual moon in a story about Daniel Boone.
Nothing could stop me then.
I could read.
Nothing can stop me now.
I still do.
In the middle of the night when I should be sleeping.
When it’s only a few hours until 0525 and I will have to be up again.
Insomnia doesn’t come without rewards.
Like the moon, and words on a page.
But now it’s almost 0300, and I should put away the moon and go to sleep.
Goodnight, moon.