Ahh Stephen King, my old rascally friend. You took me out last night. You kept me up way past my bedtime, as you’ve been doing since we first met back in 1984 when I had mono in 10th grade and spent weeks at home reading paperbacks of Cujo, and Firestarter, and The Shining-with the purple lady in the bathtub.
I started a new story of yours at 10pm last night. My wife was studying for grad school and I told myself I’d just read 30 minutes. Marisa wrapped up her studies and went to bed about 10:45. I gave her a kiss and said, “I’m just going to read 10 more pages.”
I thought 10 pages would get me to about 11pm, but I looked up and it was 11:10, and then I told myself, “OK, I’ll put the book down at 11:30.”
11:30 came and went. The last half of my two hours out with Stephen I didn’t even look at the clock. 12:15, that was when my head finally lifted from the pages, coming back from a very different world, coming back to my regular life and now officially wondering, “Am I going to be tired tomorrow because of this?”
It’s Monday morning and I’m awake. I set my alarm for 6, and I’m on my second cup of coffee. I’ve read my prayers, meditated and made a gratitude list this morning. I’m getting my spiritual foundation installed to build this day, to make today my masterpiece.
It rained all weekend in Los Angeles. The air is cool and clean. I’m out here on the back porch and I’ve been listening to the sound of dripping water my whole morning. This week will be shortened because of Cesar Chavez Day Friday. If Stephen has made me tired, maybe it won’t be so bad because the week will be shorter than normal.
Today’s my day to be a husband, father and worker-among-workers. Just for today, I’m choosing to be happy, because as Abraham Lincoln said, “Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.”
It’s shower time. Then breakfast with Jack. Then up the 405, the clean and washed off 405. If I’m lucky the mountains will be visible behind downtown. They’ll be covered with snow, like we’re not in Los Angeles, but somewhere else entirely.
Dylan Stafford 
What did you think?