(Samaritan)
There was a time in my life when 3a.m. was barely bedtime (“I’m up in the mornig I suppose I should try to get some sleep”). As a rolling shift worker there are still times when 3a.m. is my defacto bedtime, but for a long time it has felt as though I shoud have been asleep long since (“god is it still two hours till I finish?”).
I am commonly a very sound sleeper (what brass band?), but I had been awakened by the congestion of a bad cold (one nostril clear, one blocked with the option of running like a tap), and the dilema of too hot to attempt to breathe, but too cold without full duvet and blankets. I was alone with my misery when the doorbell rang.
Now we live on a busy main street with a front door right on the road, so we get our share of late revellers ringing the bell and staggering on. Not generally as a late as 3, on a week day. The only other likely option would be the police?
As I ponder actually getting up to see (bed is warm…) I hear the thunder of our older son, Nathan, tip-toeing down the stairs. I think the likely outcome will be Mr nobody, but I listen from under covers incase it’s the constabulary (“..your cars been set on fire…..”).
In the silence of the small hours I am just aware of conversation, but when I hear two sets of footsteps ascending, I come to a fuller wakefullness.
Uncertain if it is some aquaintance of my son’s (currently living in the Vampire world of sleeping days), I shuffle out to the landing, where I can resolve, hushed tones and polite laughter from the kitchen? A few minutes and two set of feet descend and the outer door closes.
I think Nathan has heard my approach, for he is not startled by my appearance.
“Wrong address”
“.. and you brought them into the house….why?….” and although I am calm and no harm is done, I can feel myself winding up to lecture my “less-than-worldly-wise” son, about people not being who they present as.
“He was super apologetic as soon as he realised, and was just desperate to go….”
” I asked if he needed help….”
I can say nothing. I can raise no word of criticism. I suspect I would not have given the time of day, and very likely added a substantial piece of my mind to follow, if I had confronted someone at my door at 3am.
30 seconds charging for a flat phone had been enough to identify the correct number in the street. And our lost wanderer is on his way to his friends house.
We live in a society where the media, our news, even our entertainment, is simply filled with rumour of threat and peril from stangers. I would like to think that I am better than that, but I fear not. My only consolation is that my son is.
Next week on IaDL It’s going to be Japan [2] for sure.
Dalmallyfest the Asylum 