Bedtime

The mere thought of bedtime brings memories of my father tucking us in at night. As I grew older, bedtime was more a struggle. The teen years brought bedtime as a time to sneak out, living in the basement....made it much easier, I'll admit. Then in college bedtime was a permanent challenge for me, who would be beside me, who would I share the intimate shadows of the ever waing moon with? And then I found love. Or what I believed was love. That sustained me through graduate school, and even a few years later. The Upper Peninsula was a magical place where all the demons of bedtime disappeared. And then they returned wirh a vengeance ten years ago.
Of course there were years where bedtime was early, for my daughter, my one true love in this world. Then, there were years where it meant nothing but a challenge to see who I could entice and discard quickly. Now, bedtime is a glass of red, a good book, a kiss from my husband, a giggle and a sigh from my daughters. Bedtime has taken a calm pallor from the days gone by. However, every once in awhile she rears up and demands an encore of those earlier days. It is then I raise my glass in salute to her, a bold, wild girl of years past, and say "prozits" and grin from ear to ear because I am older, wiser, but defintely not in it for the long run.