I’m awake.

The moon is like a spotlight through the window. A raccoon is angry outside, and it gets the cat and dog going. The sounds of the pipes in the walls brings my thoughts to all the little pieces of the watering system. So many things that could go awry. My left ear occasionally gurgles, congested by allergies.

I’m not sleeping because my mind won’t stop, but it’s not one of those times all I can think is “why aren’t I asleep!” This night I kind of enjoy the ride.

One of my kids seems to need me to be the bad guy right now. It’s not my favorite part of being a parent, but seems to be important.

When my dad was the age I am now, I was 33. It was maybe around then that he stopped sleeping, or rather started staying up late and waking quite early. It made such an impression on me that even years later, when he was again a late sleeper, I always called him early Texas time, unable to remember his new schedule.

Maybe this is my sleepless time? Perhaps it’s just a night. Or two.

When my daughter is 33, I’d be 77; when my son is 33 I’d be 80.

When I was 33, my mom had been dead for 7 years. When my kids are 33 their mom will have been gone 17 and 20 years.

I am not a person who can easily do math sums in my head, it usually requires a calculator. But none of the numbers help me make sense of how much stuff there is to do, and how quickly time passes.

The sky fills with light at 5:30, so I get up. The dog is ready for his walk, always.