I can’t sleep. It’s the middle of the night before I move out of my childhood home and into an apartment in a city, and I just cannot sleep. I keep wishing Puck or that Fairy King were around to chuck some sleep glitter at my face so I could just have that midsummer night’s dream I’ve been waiting for. Also…pardon the potential inaccuracies, it’s hard to remember the details of Shakespeare’s works when you’re SO EXHAUSTED YOU’RE GOING CROSS-EYED.
I was super annoyed that I couldn’t sleep, and was laying in silence waiting to be bopped over the head by some sleep fairy, when a pack of coyotes started howling. To a lot of people, that’s weird, unsettling, or maybe even scary. But to me, it sounds like home. I grew up listening to them yip at night, and my dad always used to take me outside to listen to them. There’s something comforting about coyotes: they come from where I come from, with their clever eyes and timid glances, and they really do represent my home.
So maybe I should reframe this experience: I got to stay up late and hear the coyotes one last time before I move away. I’m sure I’ll be back to visit and hear them outside my window, but it’ll be different. This time is perfect.
Bye bye, home. Bye, coyotes. I’ll miss you. I think it’s time for sleep.