Wee Small Hours

It is shortly after 3am in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I awoke to a kitten curled upon my arm near my shoulder, purring. You can't resist melting when awaking to that. Really. My sleeping pattern has taken on a new twist. I get to sleep 3 hours and be awake one hour. Then sleep a couple more only to get up again. It isn't all that bad. Naps are my new friend.

I have seen the newspapers being delivered (which in my sleepiness, I mistook for a crazy drunk driver until I figured out they were tossing papers out at each sharp turn towards the sidewalk, not crashing into parked cars.) I am getting to know the departure and arrival patterns of my nearest neighbors and the sounds their cars make when the ignition is turned. I hear snippets of drunken conversation and the occassional tiff between young lovers too drugged or too inebriated to make any sense.

I've always been a light sleeper. I'm the worst kind of light sleeper though. Get a few drinks in me and I snore. I'm one of those. The snoring light sleepers. I hear it isn't too bad, almost endearing actually. But I suppose, my lovers that told me this white lie had only the best of intentions.

My mom is a light sleeper too though I recall my father being a zonked out, snoring loudly kind of sleeper. That could have been from the alcohol but even before he drank too much, I think he would sleep through sounds. One time I remember my mom shaking my father awake claiming she had heard a noise. It went something like this:

"Ray. Raaaaay! I think I heard something." said in hushed stage whisper as to not alert possible intruder or the children.

"Rayyyyy! Wake up!" This said with an added shake to the arm.

"Hhhuh? Hmmm. What?" A confused, sleepy dad replies.

"I think someone is breaking into the house." My mother quickly says, "We have to go see what it is."

"Oh. Ok. . .I'll be right behind you." My father replies groggily.

He was always more of an ass-kicker on the phone than in person, that dad of mine. You know, like when he would tell those crank callers off with a resounding, "stick it in your ear buddy!" Way to go dad. :)

Sometimes in the dark in the wee small hours of the morning when I make my way to bathroom or to get a glass of water from the kitchen I find myself dragging my hand along the wall to guide me. The sound of careful, deliberate steps coupled with the soft sound of my fingers dragging along the wall conjures up my father so readily, I almost want to whisper, "Hi dad."

But I don't.