I began loving 4 a.m. when I lived in Noe Valley along the 48 Quintara (diesel) bus line, and the bus would stop at my corner and lurch to a noisy start again. I'd wake up around 4 a.m. to silence after the route had ceased for the night, knowing there would be a couple more hours before it started again.
In my current place in the Outer Richmond, I still love 4 a.m. It's a time when most car traffic has faded outside my bedroom window, and it's several more hours before the construction workers will continue their seismic retrofit of the veterans administration across the street.
And, it's several more hours before the GoCars that have become my ire-filled obsession will begin buzzing by with their GPS-prompted announcement that can be heard far and wide, "At the stop sign, continue straight, on Seal Rock Road." (Thank god for the foreign visitors who choose another of the despised tour company's four other languages, just to give me some variety.)
At 4 a.m., I lie in bed and listen to the silence. Anything can happen. It's still night, but it's also morning. I don't have to get up, but I could. It's so quiet, I almost wonder if my world is me and I've made the rest of my life up. And I am happy.