Nyctophilia 09.08.21
Hello Little Beautiful. Welcome Home. About two weeks ago, you crept back down the stairs an hour after I had tucked you in. I was sitting in my Adirondack rocker out on the back porch, and you crawled right up into my lap. You just pushed in under my little blanket and curled up around my cup of tea as if it were the most natural thing. I think you didn’t want me to send you back to bed, so you were completely quiet and just watched the night with me. You’re infected with Nyctophilia now. That’s probably my fault. Now, when it gets close to bedtime, you fill the conversation with comments about dusk. Where you used to riddle me with questions about where the sun retired to, how it got its gold back after it dropped it all into the lake, and if dropping its gold made the sun, in fact, an autumn-time tree; you, now, fill the dusk with comments and questions about the rising purple, the appearin...