Tonight, I came back to the night shift. I return to the perpetually alluring comfort that is the night. And like a prodigal son returning home I came to her, and she welcomed me. I've always like the graveyard shift. There's a certain feel to it, a certain mystical charm that always makes me feel welcome. Could it be the cool embrace of the early morning air? Could it be the deliberate easy pace that everyone takes? Or maybe I'm just a night person.

The night continues to inspire me. It has in the past helped me create wonderful articles and a few notable poems. It has comforted me during my lonesome days. The night has always been there to provide closure. Maybe I like to stay awake at night because I'm simply a sentimental person and closure is hard to accept. Whatever it is, I feel welcome. I'm glad I'm back.

The only thing that bothers me is the fact that I miss my son. It's my first night and I already miss him :-[