Hours

At twelve am we stood outside the doughnut shop, pointing to doughnuts through the long glass window, ordering our dozen and a small box of chocolate milk and a styrofoam cup of hot cocoa.

At one am we discussed our lives over half consumed french crullers and glazed cream filleds.

At two am we retreated to our own abodes and our own beds, to lie down and consider the night.

Minds fueled by conversation and sugar are not easily silenced, even at three in the morning when the house is quiet and peppermint toothpaste has removed every trace of the sugar that once coated your teeth.

At four in the morning those minds drift in and out of consciousness, sometimes thinking, sometimes floating through clouds, sometimes wondering what time it is.

At five, the sky is still dark.

At six, the sun is starting to rise.

At seven, the birds are chirping.

At eight, cars are driving down the road on their way to school, to work, to classrooms and coffee and lessons and plans.

Nine am is an unreal time, no one is ever awake at nine unless they are already awake at eight.

Ten o’clock is just about the perfect time, and teeth are brushed and faces are washed, and clothes is pulled on as you scramble to the front door.

Little feet run through the house from eleven to four.

At five you rest again.

At six you play guitar.

At seven you pray with your family.

At eight you relax.

At nine you stare at the t.v.

At ten you try not to think about your troubles.

At eleven you become hungry.

At twelve…

 

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About writingcatherine

This started as a documentation of my adventures in Europe...but hey, life's an adventure in itself.
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