First Night Shift

The silence of midnight allows thoughts to scream, and dreams are no better place. The radio static keeps me company as I lie awake listening to constant exchanges of commands and copies between dispatchers and workers in the city under the black of the evening sky. Street lamps are now the only stars providing visibility to just parts of the shadows. Familiar voices offer both relief and worry, as you know breath is a sign of life, but how much life is left? All I can do from my sheets are pray that I hear no distress. I am the a fly on the wall, secretly inquiring the city from afar, stalking the prey of a wife's worst nightmares head on. My eyes grow heavy but refuse to shut as the night shift takes on the battles of a city after hours, when the light of day has long disappeared over the concrete horizon of skyscrapers. The sweet sound of a child's snore is a stranger to the difficulties of war, yet as adults, the hostility is felt not only across oceans but within the borders of county lines. Rest does not always come easy, but eventually the sun rises and the shadows are retreated to nothing. I wait in glow of the sun as it pours into the windows. He will come home an exhausted firefighter with the burdens of blazes misplacing the lives of others, and drug over-doses leaving no survivors. And I will sit there with his spot in bed ready, and tell him that our son slept through the night, making noises as he dreamed. My current read started slow but its pace is picking up. And as his eyes close, I will tell him the boring details about the heat of the summer, and our quiet house. I will tell him those things because that is what he needs to hear, and he will slumber knowing that his kingdom is under watch by his queen. He made all the right moves, survived the fight of the night and found peace in the morning.