Middle of the Night
Roo has been kept up recently due to a stuffy nose and sore throat. So she and Dad often find themselves looking out over First Ave in the middle of the night.
Now they’ve sat in grandma’s small town living room or a rental house at the cape in the dead of night, when all is dark and morning feels like it may never arrive.
But in the city, it’s so different.
There’s never a time when night fully blankets the neighborhood.
Sure, out their window, Dunkin’ is always open. But it’s more than that. The cars roll up First Ave. Their frequency slows, but never ceases. The traffic lights always speak to someone. They watch the night-owl stragglers stumble out of the pizza place. Yet before the final late night denizens disappear, the early risers are already coming to life. The street transitions from late night to early morning without them noticing. But sure enough, it’s deliveries being made now.
And since thanksgiving week, there are new additions to the overnight. Christmas trees stand as sentries up the Avenue by the playground, and some temporary residents from the Great White North sleep in an RV at the curb and sell trees by day.
Roo can sleep now in a more upright position—the breathing is smoother. Dad watches the street, drifts off, then jolts back awake. And repeat.