all my life, i've had a nighttime friend. not one, mind you; i've had several throughout the years, but never more than one at a time. he, and it has always been a he, maybe wasn't there for every thrift store visit, every coffee run, every painting in the grass session, or every "i need someone to sit with me at lunch". he wasn't the kind of friend you'd swap stories in between homework answers with. but he was there for every midnight stroll, every breezeway sob, every FaceTime sleepover, and every "today feels heavy and i need someone to sit with me". he was the kind of friend you'd pour your heart out to for hours, uninterrupted, and he'd do the same. his greeting in sunlight was gentle but brief; that of a kind acquaintance. his greeting in moonlight was immediate and compassionate; that of one who truly knew my soul. losing a nighttime friend is always an odd experience. it's something i feel the loss of so deeply, but i can't properly express to the company i keep in daylight. they only ever saw the sunlight greetings, after all. however, the grief of it all usually finds comfort in an acquaintance, one with a penchant for pondering under the stars. thus, i've never had to seek out a nighttime friend; one leaving always lends itself nicely to another arriving. this season is different though; i haven't stumbled into a sleepless friendship and i'm not quite sure i will. my body is tired and i know that long walks in the dark by myself aren't helping that, but my mind is trying to replicate what it felt like to have a nighttime friend.
~mj