4am is perfect.

It has begun and I have been here before. Waking up from a slumbering world and having life crash down into my bed before I open my eyes. It usually happens towards morning the month before a major departure. It is a moment of true clarity - a perfect time to realize that a leaving is actually going to take place. Then comes the icy slide as logistics and time-tables battle with emotions - when the next step of the looming departure leaves no room for breath, and I see the faces of those I care for, and the room is silent, and my thoughts are shrieking. I can see a little too clearly at 4am. My vision is 20/20 and life is too bright to stare at. So I breathe deep and sink back into dreams, hiding behind the sunglasses of the Almighty. Thank God the world is imperfect. Do you ever wonder why we feel no compassion for the perfection of a super-model, yet a struggling stranger can evoke our compassion? The perfection of 4am is a lie. the imperfect world of 4pm is more to my liking.

K.