Owl Eyes

I should have been in bed hours ago, but I am awake. It's not an accident. My eyes sting; my head hurts; my thinking is muddled and slow. My body gave me signals along and along, trying to alert me to my need for rest; but I disregarded the warnings. I chose this. The truth is, I like staying up.

I don't use the bathroom during these silent watches of the night. Instead, I go outside when nature calls. I like the coolness of the night and the openness of the sky above my head. I revel in a world at rest. My soul puffs up and fireworks of joy throw muted bangs around in my chest.

The night frightens people, I think, because they envision dusky shapes lurking in the half-light. Night is to them a veil for things that prowl and skulk. They much prefer the visibility of daylight and the safety that daytime's bustle extends.

Night has beguiled me because it is silent. It is at rest. I can feel the quietness of it. Some people can listen to music while they do homework or work on projects, but I can't; noise clogs my mind and retards my thoughts. I can think full-on about the music, or I can turn it off and think about something else—it's as simple as that: either or, not both. Night is a realm of solitude where thoughts can take main stage. The noise of color and movement and sound is tranquilized, making room for thoughts to light up the the darkness like a thousand fireflies whirring and blinking amidst tall, whispering trees. The night sky is stretched across the heavens like a giant connect-the-dots sheet, and each new thought draws a line from star to star.

But night is also lonely. I would never be able to enjoy the night if I knew I was utterly alone. I can enjoy the night because I know I am never alone; my Lord stands beside me and sees my every thought. And He doesn't have to break the silence to speak to me.

Last night as I stood outside and searched the sky, I had the crazy idea to write a book called Owl Eyes. It would be about a boy who loved the night in all it's purest forms. He was made that way, and he had a unique purpose to fulfill in that capacity. He loved the night because the world was asleep, and he could focus. Or something like that. He habitually wakes up and wanders around under cover of darkness. One night he wakes up and night never ends; the other people never wake up. It's up to him, of course, to bring back the dawn.

I think his name is Oliver, because it sounds close to "owl".

Goodnight, baby bear scouts.