The sunlight has mostly faded away as I clock out for the evening. I lower myself into my driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition and pull out of the parking lot, heading straight towards the circle of black clouds hovering over my side of town.
I’m driving into the darkness.
I’m driving towards home.
It’s incredible how one hour seems to make a world of difference. It shouldn’t, but it does. Time does that, I suppose. When daylight took over the sky for just an hour longer, there was less of a sense of urgency to come inside, for it would be a good while before the streetlights came on.
And now is the time that everything is darker sooner and for longer. It’s much harder to distinguish what lurks behind these early-arriving shadows. Would it be unsafe to linger outside for longer than a few moments now?
Something is off, even though I’ve known forever that this time would come, for daylight must be sacrificed at one time or another.
This won’t last forever, I know. This isn’t my first time in the darkness.
But it will be a long time.
And I have learned to adapt.