I had a hard time sleeping last night. The air was full of anxious worry that I would somehow miss hearing my alarm clock. If I missed my early wake up call I would certainly ruin the entire day, and quite possibly the coming weeks and months.
The night was full of tossing and turning, great anticipation, and sideways glances as the minutes ticked by ever so slowly.
At 3:30 I finally gave up and crawled out of bed. My alarm was set to go off in 8 minutes anyway. I rummaged around in the dark for some warm socks. I threw on my jeans and a sweater. I grabbed my fleece blanket, coat, and camp chair. I'd be waiting in line for a while. Outside. I wanted to make sure I'd be warm and comfortable.
I hopped in my orange minivan and picked up two of my friends and we were on our way. We got in line just after 4 AM with only two people in front of us. By 5:30, when they opened the doors for us to continue our wait inside, there were at least 25 people behind us.
We waited an additional hour and a half before we were each given a numbered wristband and told to come back at 6 PM.
When we returned, we were among the few lucky ones. We got exactly what we were looking for, and the satisfaction was even sweeter than the result of similar excursions from my teens and early twenties.
Only this time it wasn't killer concert tickets, or the latest Harry Potter book that I walked away with.
This time, it was the smile on that sweet, little, 4 year old face as I told her I had secured her spot in the same preschool class as her BFF.