IT IS DARK WHEN I GO OUT in the early morning to walk, and usually still dark when I get back home. But if I get off a little late, usually because I've been reading and wanted to get to the end of the chapter, I may still be on the street in that precious time between dawn and sunrise when the people in the houses that I'm passing are beginning to stir. The phenomenon of the changing of the sky holds my interest. It is lightening up as it evolves from dark, to white, to blue. The guy who delivers newspapers is tearing around the streets, tossing out the local rag, and so I am wary of his approach. Someone who has recently moved into the neighborhood has three big dogs in the fenced backyard, and they bark loudly as I'm passing, likely waking up the sleepers in nearby homes. I keep on, and they fade away. I find that I am smiling to myself, happy that I am a cat person, and very happy that they don't live next to me. When I spot my mailbox I invariably slow my pace, pleased to be almost home, feeling the glow of the walk, and already imagining the gurgle of the coffee pot and the fine aroma of the Colombian Supremo. The day is ahead and I am ready for it.
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