I have rediscovered the pure pleasure of falling asleep in a darkened room. A pitch black silence, that seems to envelope my body like a heavy blanket of deep, comforting rest. My eyes in particular love it – that effortlessness of closing shut when there is darkness on both sides of my lids.
No lamp on to guide my very short-sighted way to a tiny newborn crying out for a midnight feed. No nightlight of baby blue cutting through the darkness and across my face like a little instrument of torture tapping away. No fucking funderland of groclocks, light up lighthouses, high beam torch chargers or glowing mice on a toddler nightstand literally blinding me as sleep eludes, thinking it couldn’t be bedtime, it must be Blackpool.
No straight lines of white light outlining the door frame and tumbling into the bedroom from the hall so that’s there’s a reassuring brightness for a troubled night-waking small boy.
And, at last, no little red flashing light from the baby monitor charger in the corner. Ever so tiny, but ever so sharp. Like a laser beam, finding its way across the room and straight into the corner of my sleeping eye. Tap, tap, tap.
Just total darkness. Heavenly, healing, calming, sleep-inducing darkness.
Hello darkness, my old friend.