My Dad is ill, and trying to help my brother Mike with him, long distance, is taking an emotional toll.
So my eyes flash open at 5 a.m.
Not much to do but take a walk around the neighborhood.
I open the front door of my home and step onto the pockmarked stone of my concrete driveway.
My senses are immediately overwhelmed by color and sound.
The sky is cobalt blue, with a hint of the black of darkness and the silver of the morning horizon in the distance.
Birds are creating a symphony of sound.
From a hearty hoot-hoot of the owl, to the cheerful chirp of the wren and robin, it is truly nature’s concert in hi-def.
On back-to-back days I saw deer running through my neighborhood. I’ve lived in the same development for 30 years, and have only seen one deer roam our street in all that time.
The silence has a roar of its own, but it is drowned out by the peacefulness of the stillness, sans the aviary of course.
So I guess there is a benefit to the unrest.
But all the same, I dream of taking the walk with my father—just one last time.