Ever since twelfth grade have I considered myself a night owl, not because I preferred the solitude afforded by a 3am curfew, but often because somewhere between my hygienic ritual and five minutes into sleep, a fleeting spark of inspiration will light me out of bed and into what I’ve been told is called flow.  Whether it was by pen or by fretboard, I would immerse myself until I finally noticed the clock passing hours by me.  And this was relatively fine . . . until I got married.  My poor wife had to teach weekend class at today eight o’clock and I was still at the computer at one, jotting down notes for a new article idea.  This wasn’t the first time this happened, but something finally clicked.

In marriage, you’re living as team whose membership will only grow – and I can’t wait for that.  But, whatever worked for me solo isn’t always going to work on the team, so as a good husband (and father), I must be constantly aware of the people for whom I am now responsible, trusted, and living.

“Love is not Time’s fool,” and neither should I be.  Just go to bed, and we can pick up the flow tomorrow.