It is 6:32 a.m. on a Wednesday, and I am walking in the
side of the street. The street! Like a
common hooligan! I forgive myself quickly, the sidewalks being a heaped mess of frozen/melted/frozen topography,
challenging ribbons of ankle-breaking treachery.
And I watch for cars.
Just three months ago, this time of day looked much the
same as midnight. Today, the sun is
cresting the horizon; and the world is filled with the soft, hopeful light of
impending spring.
A man walking a yellow Lab and sensibly walking on the
sidewalk approaches. It is a neighbor. He raises an arm. “Mornin’, Pearl!” he shouts.
I wave back. “Good
morning!” I leave off his name, as I am
unsure of it. Embarrassingly, I rarely
remember names, only faces.
He takes another couple steps, slows. “Eighteen degrees this morning,” he says.
I turn to walk backwards, keep moving. I have, after all, a bus to catch. “You can really tell, too, can’t you? Practically warm!”
He grins. “I hear
it’ll be 40 degrees by the weekend,” he says.
“We’ll have to set up a pool in the backyard,” I say, “just
to cool off.”
“We lived through
another one!” he says, moving further and further away. “Have a good day!”
“You, too,” I say.
And just like that, it is decided: we will both have a good day.
The sky seems to brighten just a little more.