"It's 10 o'clock. Goodnight."
"Goodnight Katie." "Goodnight." "Yeah, yeah, night."
Welcome to my favorite part of a Farm Stay day: bedtime.
Every night is the same; I go to one wing, tell them the time, wait for a response, say goodnight and repeat in the other wing. And every night, they respond with a goodnight in turn. I feel a little sad when they stop talking and are (presumably) asleep before I get the chance to exchange my nighttime wishes with them. Sometimes I'm tempted to wake them up just so they know I wish them all a goodnight.
Often times we think of ways to start the day, to celebrate a new day's arrival and exchange our hopes for a good morning (actually my second favorite part of the day, especially when they are still groggy from the good night's sleep they feel they have been wrenched from), but I think the night deserves its rightful obeisance, honoring a captivating world of darkness. After all, without the night, or something like it, when would we recharge for a new day? We need good nights in order to access good days. Without that precious sleep, we lose our reasoning capabilities, already so fragile in the teenage brain.
Tonight is the last night of the 2011-2012 Farm Stays. I will miss the antics, the questions of life, the universe and everything, the reminders to scrub the bottom of the cups, the search for bluebird nest boxes while the sun is setting, the dedicated working on micro economy projects, the ownership of adding value to this place, the mad-crazy-making-cake/frosting-from-scratch skills. And the goodnights.
Yeeks, now it's past my bedtime.
Until next year Junior High,