2:30 a.m. and Restless

It’s 2:30 in the morning, and I’m wide awake. Sometimes I just wake up in the middle of the night, restless and full of energy. I pop out of bed, ready to go—but where can I go at 2:30 a.m.? So here I am, sitting at my table with my computer, just thinking. It’s cold outside, and I suspect I’ve got a case of the winter blues. Really, though, I’m just restless.

When this happens, my thoughts often turn to the beautiful people in my life—especially my children. My daughter and son, both in their thirties, have grown into their own lives, each living within a two-and-a-half-hour drive. My favorite days are the ones I get to spend with them in person, and the best are when I see them both at the same time. I just saw them last month. But after they leave, I miss them terribly. Phone calls help, but they’re no substitute for being together.

Life feels strange as you get older. Your children grow, carve out their own paths, and you find yourself having to redefine who you are. I’ve been wrestling with this lately, unsure of what to do with myself some days. Last year, I focused on making my apartment feel more like a home. A few years ago, I lost everything in a hurricane, and my space felt a little sad. I slowly curated artwork and pieces I loved, and now I feel comfortable in my surroundings. But now, I feel ready to find a new purpose—or two—to bring fresh joy into my life. The tricky part is figuring out what that looks like.

I think I’m embarking on a new journey. I’m figuring out the steps to move forward. Last night, I ran into a neighbor while walking and enjoyed a little visit before heading in to make dinner. I realized I love to cook and share meals, so I should start inviting people over more often. I enjoy exercising and have just started being consistent lately, so that is one commitment I’ve made. And I need a creative outlet—maybe this blog can be part of that.

For now, it’s 2:30 a.m., and I’m restless. But perhaps that’s a good thing. It’s a reminder to get up, embrace life, and appreciate the gift of a new day. Restless or not, tomorrow is waiting—and it’s mine to shape.