What Does Freedom Feel Like?

I’m up…finally…before the sun. It’s because of Maxie. He got left out all night. He was crying so loud right outside my window about 6:20 that Donny and I both flew out of bed with that “what’s wrong” feeling. Max came in like a scared teenager out past his bedtime. He is a well-trained yard cat in the daytime. If he gets forgotten or accidentally left out after dark, he returns to his untrained nature. He roams. Then he comes back to the door puzzled to find it closed. Who knows how long it took him to bring his sorrowful and desperate cries to the bedroom window.

Max came in. I came out to the cabin.

It took me 20 minutes to do it though, to get out here, part of that time spent sitting on the bed. I wasn’t really debating whether or not to come, just waking up. Max’s cries had made me do one of those jump-start wake ups. Now I know there’s not all that long left before sunrise. The difference between 6:20 and 6:40 is extreme. Along the freeway side of the fence the trees are silhouettes of black jiggling shapes against a white sky with a little color along the edge, and in front of me there’s some distinction growing out of the darkness on the ground, but there’s other places the light hasn’t reached, and this is what I love. I feel thrilled. There’s just something about it – about me being here at this hour – that feels so fantastic, as if I’m in sync with this time of day and free.

The day hasn’t gotten going yet, it’s not fully formed, there’s nobody else up and there’s no expectations. No one’s missing me. I’m not missing out on being with Henry in his own cuddly waking-up hour. Not missing breakfast.

But it’s more than that – something about the change – the way the day comes alive around me that makes me feel part of it, and with the world, that one-with-it-all feeling.

I just started setting my alarm for 5 again. (It went off this morning and I somehow managed to shut it off without waking up as I have for about three or four days in a row.) I didn’t used to have to do that. I’d wake up early on my own. Then my rhythm got all screwed up by the job. Why is it that when you’ve got a job you have to use an alarm and when you don’t you get up naturally? The job’s behind me by two months now, the next one not yet here, and still my body hasn’t found it’s way back to what’s natural. Part of it is that I get the same kind of feeling at night that I get in the early morning. I’m ready to go to bed. So is everyone else. The house quiets down. Then I want to stay up even though I’m bleary eyed.

You’ve got to find your quiet hours. And sometimes they’re one’s like Max finds when he’s out on the prowl at night, when he turns into that untrained cat that doesn’t follow the rules. They’re the one’s you’re desperate to find even if it means you sometimes stay out too late and find some door closed when you’re ready to come back from wherever it is you’ve wandered. It’s why you go there; part of the thrill. What’s out there? What will you discover?

What does freedom feel like?

And if it feels so good you can’t hardly stand it, you don’t mind getting scared once in a while.