I like writing at night. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the quiet calm of a house asleep, save the rise and fall from the chest of my love lying next me. Maybe it’s the flicker of candlelight as it dances off of the dark walls around me.
I can write in the morning, in the day. I have. There’s just something missing. Passion maybe? I’ve tried rising early to write while I’m alone with the rising glow of the sun, but it seems that when I do, the rest of the house just happens to wake early as well. That or I’m sifting through a cloud of sleep to grab my coherent thoughts and feelings. That might be where coffee helps, I just can’t bring myself past the bitter swirl of a hot mug.
So, night it is. While my family sleeps. While dreams are written upon their hearts, I recall moments, bringing those emotions right back to the tippie top of my heartstrings.
Here I sit, Chris’ cantic breath beginning to swirl around the room in tango with the slight glimmer from my favorite new candle, as I let the words flow out stream of consciousness style before the time change back from west coast to east catches up with me.
As soon as the plane kissed the ground, my heart smiled back at the fog greeting me and my fellow passengers. I was back in a city that had already smitten me.
And this time, it had me at hello, again.
I’m completely romanced by cities. They slay me with their angled architecture and bustling, light lined streets, rich histories and sights that are so different from my own home surroundings and yet, somehow, just as welcoming and comfortable.
Last time I was in San Francisco, I was wrapped in a cloak of my own romance… played out with Christopher by my side. And this time? I was just as taken with the beautifully lit bridges, like a stream of fireflies against a black sky, and the water lined edges of the 46 square mile city, even though it felt like a little like I was stealing away our favorite shared meal… on a date with myself.
There’s always a good opportunity to go a crossin’ something off the bucket list when traveling, and this trip didn’t disappoint. In fact, I rather enjoyed playing tourist, and since I’ve never taken a red bus tour (the ones with an open topped double deck) in any city I’ve been to… it was a perfect time to indulge.
I laughed. A lot.
I froze, a sweet reminder of home, the chill of winter and the way it changes your breath to smokey whispers as the cold air makes it’s way through your being… and the way a warm bath and hot chocolate is just as much of a haven as it is a necessity.
Though it took a good couple of hours before I felt the tips of my fingers again (yes, I think I’m annoyingly acclimated to the warmer weather of my new home in Florida and have lost that thick winter skin) I was swept up in the beauty of the night sky being swallowed in the twinkling lights of the city skyline. And the twinkling lights that will last just ’till the end of December, they were just as mesmerizing. I think I even hummed a little bit of Baby It’s Cold Outside while passing by.
Every part of me enjoyed traipsing around the bay of San Francisco in the couple hours I had free every day. Still, blood raced through every vein, warming my body as my flight lifted me out of the fog hovering over the city. I would be in his arms again soon… with my babies wrapped tight in mine.