the in-between

Now is my favorite time, the in-between. It's not morning, because the sun isn't up, but it isn't really night, because it's morning.

Everything is sleepy and dreamy and quiet. The music is always especially good, and so is the lamp light and my fat chair. The folded down pages of my favorite books mean more, and so do the lyrics to the songs I set on replay.

I'm alone, but in the best way. My roommate and her dog sleep. The houses, and the people in the houses, and the cars sleep. I'm not really alone though, because I know that many of you love the in-between too. And you're reading, and listening to your songs, and sitting in your own lamp light, and being "alone" in the sleepy, dreamy quiet too.

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite"

I could stay up all night, every night just to sit in the in-between, at least until the sky starts to turn gray. I could listen to all of the songs on my hardwood floors and rainy days play list, or maybe my ladies and guitars play list, and I could reread my favorite books, or write a book, or look at old pictures I keep under my bed. I tucked my feet beneath me, and read a psalms. I wrote some scratchy lines that no one will ever be able decipher on some paper, and considered it a prayer. I imagined the great things in my life to happen, and considered how I'd get to Switzerland one day, and felt peace considering it. Peace, if I didn't mention it, that comes with the sleepy, quiet in-between too, and it's the best part. It's not always there, because some in-betweens can be hard, but you're more likely to find peace in the in-between then you are in the bustle and the lights of the afternoon or the alarm clock screaming morning. At least, that's true for me.

Tonight, my favorite song is "silhouettes" by the careful ones, or maybe "slow dance on broken glass."

Something will happen. Because something always happens in the in-between. It's like the rules of life and science and whatever else are allowed to break. All of the potential is in the air for something to change, or to spark, or to rotate, I don't know how to say it better, there's just a delicate something in the air in the in-between, and if you stay up long enough, you'll get to feel it, or maybe breathe it in. I guess you can think of it kind of like a waking dream, I'm not sure I know what that means, but it sounds pretty right.

I guess it doesn't sound like much, but in the morning, I feel so sure that everything happened in the in-between. The clock ticked so slowly that I felt time move, and I got to live in it. I spent it hoping and living, and waiting for the great things to happen, like they so often do. The houses, and the people in their houses, and the cars were all sleeping, and I spent it trying to be apart of the something bigger, and if you live in the in-between like I do, you know what I mean.

I thought and became and loved. And those "things" really matter.