Three a.m. has become the saddest time of day for me. But not the sad of my old days, not the kind that makes simply breathing in and out difficult and sunrise seem a million miles away. Now the evenings slide by so quickly I can't get a grasp on them.

Hours rush by in a flood of something wonderful. Minutes come and go so quickly. There is music and inside jokes and someone else who seems to feel the same.

I will take every moment of this without worries of the future or sadness of the past. And each time 3 a.m. hits, I'll remember this is the sadness that makes it all worthwhile, the kind that only comes when you have something to miss.