Imagine my surprise this morning when, at 6:45 a.m., I awoke from a sound sleep. The sun had long since risen. The room was awash in light. I had been in bed for roughly eight and a quarter hours! That’s stunning. I’m never in bed that long. My smart phone, which has a close relationship with my Sleep Number bed, tells me I had six hours, forty-one minutes of restful sleep, one hour-four minutes of restless sleep, and was out of bed for twenty minutes during the night. That’s a very strange night for me. I guess it was the twenty minutes of stark wakefulness that messed with my mind and let me stay in bed for such an incredible amount of time.
What I found strange when I awoke was that I engaged with the sun. That is, I found it rather nice to open my eyes and actually see the things around me. I didn’t have to feel my way around the bed when I got up; I could actually see the dresser and the door knob. I could see my flip-flops next to the bed when I swung my legs over the side when I got up. Don’t get me wrong; this cannot be a regular thing. It was an unusual experience, but not one I’d want to have on a regular basis. I like my darkness. I like knowing I will have ample solitary time to contemplate the world and to record my thoughts about it. This morning, instead, I feel rushed to document this aberration in my sleep pattern. And I feel rushed to begin the long, arduous process of packing for our trip. But I won’t rush. Not just yet. Instead, I’ll stare at the sunlight and marvel at its ability to give me sight.