The Morning Before – 5:03 am in Sighișoara | Va rog nu deranjati!

I brush cigarette ash from the café table
remove my laptop from its sleeve—
ready to recount
my rental car misadventure

At 5:03 am, my mind popped awake
Still dark, I wished to sleep more
But something had stirred
and would not let me rest

I thought it was because I live alone
that I wake and cannot fall back asleep
Before, with a partner beside me,
I could draw her warm, sleeping body close
and drift into rest again

Then I wondered if it was the medication—
Ever since I started,
my sleep has grown light and restless
Maybe they stir up some quiet anxiety,
a reminder that I am aging,
edging near the inevitable

However, yesterday, as I wrote in my loft,
an email arrived—from a friend—
vague and cutting in its tone

I felt unsettled, so I went for a walk
When I replied, asking if he had been drinking,
he tried to defend his unwelcome critique

My walk led me up to the high ground of the citadel
Where I tried to descend by a wooded path
but it led nowhere, and I had to backtrack—
convinced there was no other way down

No—
I will not let you walk back
From here, I want nothing more to do with you

One fewer friend at 5am—
maybe that’s what stirred me

The sign on my hotel door says:
Va rog nu deranjati! Please do not disturb!

I stayed in bed until 8—
my planned wake-up for breakfast 

But sleep returned, so I set an alarm for 9—
when I was meant to pick up the rental car
Everything, now, pushed back an hour

At 9, I stirred, hit snooze,
rested another 10 minutes
Then made my way downstairs

This morning, I was not alone
Another table of guests beside me
I filled my plate—
vegetables, eggs, a slice of bacon, pancakes
I ate my fill

Then prepared for the descent down the citadel

At 10, I reached the rental office
It was dark inside, like the other day—
but this time, I pushed the door
and to my surprise, it opened

Off to the side, a woman sat at a desk
Hello? I said, uncertain

Hello, she replied

I’m here for the car rental
I made a reservation online

A pause
Yes—my husband…
I’m sorry, there are no cars

No cars?

She flipped through a ledger
Sorry, no cars

I left—
disappointed I would not visit Salina Turda
but a little relieved
to idle through my last day in Sighișoara
perhaps with an early nap

The hotel sign now says:
Va rog aranjanti camera! Please make up the room!

I learned long ago—

I can regale you with my walk from Mont Saint-Michel
and the most delicious baguette—ham and butter—
eaten at a table in the hot July sun
The cider tasted so refreshing and sweet

I can also recount the awful Airbnb in Luxembourg City
where the host and her son chain-smoked in the living room,
hotboxing me in my bedroom
The air tasted of ash as I tried to nap

But this is a truth I carry—
all travel becomes story

A deferred trip to a salt mine
just becomes a carefree day
wandering the Sighișoara citadel

I do not know what echoes —or arrows→
will come my way as I walk ahead

Still, I will follow, as long as I can—
until all that’s left
is only story

---

Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash