Feeling restless, I got up from bed to go to the bathroom. I felt around with my toe on the floor, not wanting to step on our dog, Simon, who I knew was sleeping right next to our bed. At 3:30 a.m. in the morning, with no moon or other light penetrating the blinds, I could not even see my hand (or my toes). Sidestepping the dog, I made my way gingerly across the carpet and turned the corner towards the bathroom.
Konk! I cried in pain, my eyeball felt like it had been hit by a baseball bat. But it wasn’t a bat, instead it was my husband’s head. Coming from the bathroom, our paths had led us right into each other. What’s remarkable is that, in the complete darkness of the room, neither of us had seen each other.
The darkness and silence of our mountain home is something I cherish about living up here in our Nederland home. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that we live only 30 minutes from the 100,000+ metropolis of Boulder. We are far enough off the beaten path, that there is no road noise, no headlights, and no lights period during the dead of night. Looking to the west, the stars twinkle brightly in the sky.
Of course, this can be a double-edged sword. For one, you hand up smacking heads with your spouse because you simply can’t see them. But it also can be difficult to travel to other places. I find myself unable to fall asleep because of a small crack of light filtering through the window shade. Or I toss and turn because of the noise of traffic humming outside the window. I’m so used to the dark and silence of mountain living, it basically has ruined my ability to sleep anywhere else.
However, the silver lining is I probably won’t crack my head open in the middle of the night…