Early Thursday 

I am awake every few hours, the last two times from dreams and then, finally, from the lightness of sleep that comes when one is afraid of missing the alarm. 

(I shouldn’t worry, I have 2 phones both set to wake me, but that one day that Apple pushed an update to me overnight that locked me out of my phone until I (found and) entered my AppleID haunts me.)

But that last time this morning I could have fit in another sleep cycle if I was capable of math so early. So I make an effort to imprint the cutoff time into my memory en route to the office, for future reference. 

Still, it’s quiet time in the morning and I tell myself that rest is almost – almost – as good as sleep. 

On my way out the door, the half moon peeks out of clouds to greet me, so bright and lovely that I regret not getting a picture. But then, my hands are full, and spilling my coffee on myself or falling down my front steps both seem like likely outcomes and neither of them are appealing options. 

So I savor that moon as I drive 695 – that it should be so lovely, evidence that You are lovely… that we should perceive it as beautiful, evidence that we are made for and by You, to see and to long for Your beauty. 

Then the northward turn onto 95, and the moon out of sight, the sky a Rorschach’s test. By the time I reach Belcamp, the clouds are stretching out, overtaking the sky. At the DE border, only the occasional break in the clouds hints that there is a morning happening somewhere above the gloom. 

Rain drizzles as I pull in at the office. 

So begins the work day.