Morning Becomes Eclectic
I’m officially a morning person now. I get up at 5:00 am. I start writing at 6:00. I finish around 10:00 am (most days).
I don’t read the news before I start work. I don’t watch TV. No Facebook or social media. I rarely check email. I get a cup of coffee and sit on the balcony of our condominium, overlooking the street and the park across the way. My wife joins me most days. Sometimes we talk. Many days we don’t. We watch and listen, waiting for our morning friends to make their appearance.
A red-haired man, dressed in black, zips down the street on his rollerblades, free from the hazards of daytime traffic.
A Marine, dressed in camouflage uniform, takes his two German shepherds out for a walk.
A Lyft, purple light glowing from behind the car’s front windshield, pulls up to the light. It’s not the same car everyday, but there’s always a first Lyft going somewhere. Perhaps to pick up the same person.
A beefy fellow rumbles down the highway on his Harley-Davidson motorcycle. We always know when he’s coming. The roar starts a quarter-mile away.
A bird chirrups at the same time every morning, but it only calls once, a set of slow, staccato tweets followed by a faster, rhythmic glissando. A morning announcement. The new day is here.
Sometimes a full moon sits on the horizon. With each passing day it moves higher. After five days, it’s gone from view, glowing somewhere behind us.
A stink greets me one day when I open the door. At first I assume a skunk had been hit by a car, but the smell soon drifts away and I realize this clever fellow has survived another day in the urban jungle. We’ll sniff his aroma again, but I doubt we’ll ever see the animal attached to it.
One morning an older model Ford Bronco tears through the intersection like in a movie chase, bouncing off a dip in the road, sending sparks from the undercarriage and launching into the air. The Bronco continues down the street at breakneck speed, turning onto a side street and vanishing into the night. We wait for whoever might be chasing him. No one appears.
Time passes. We drink our coffee. We sit a while longer. Then it’s time go in.