Waiting

For what, I'm not sure; but the feeling is clear: I woke up to wait for something.

It's 3am as I start writing, I am awake again. It is a balmy 28° outside, I just spent a quarter hour or so on the balcony listening to the bats and the rumble of an airconditioner somewhere to the north. A car goes by every five minutes or so. The last night bus made its way back downtown to bed half an hour ago.

The moon is rising, a yellowish-orange sliver, the dark rest of its face is still clearly visible against the night.

It's actually quite pleasant to sit outside at 3am, the city is quite still. It reminds me of summer evenings in Toronto when I was growing up, the air cooling slowly after the baking heat of the day. I would sit in the living room, feeling the breeze through the screen door, listening to the rumble of traffic on the Parkway and the tinkle of water from lawn sprinklers somewhere down the street.