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I was 13 when I had my first bout of insomnia. My family was in Reykjavik, Iceland, for the summer, and day never really became night.

My father was sleepless most of his life. So by the age of five, I was awake with him all night long, watching bad television or we'd lie in the same bed, and I'd read my comic books while he read his latest spy or mystery novel.

I've had insomnia since I was five years old. I just don't require much sleep. I'm never tired.

I am an insomniac. Most of my nights include a moment of wakening. Often I will make my way to the kitchen to make tea and read for awhile.

I am an insomniac.

For me, insomnia was something ordinary, and it came and went for ordinary reasons.

Mother believed that I should have an enormous amount of sleep, and so I was never really tired when I went to bed. This was the best time of day, when I could lie in the vague twilight, drifting off to sleep, making up dreams inside my head the way they should go.

For months, I slept at work, even though I had an apartment. I'd fall asleep on the floor at 4:30 A.M. By 7 A.M., I was up and ready to start teaching every class.

Unfortunately, I have a child who doesn't sleep.

Don't think that because you haven't heard from me for a while that I went to sleep. I am still here, like a spirit roaming the night. Thirsty, hungry, seldom stopping to rest.