The air outside is blue until the sun steps out and a few clouds begin to shift from inky to pale gray and then are suddenly doused in an almost hot pink glow. Trees are silhouettes and slowly reveal their leaves as the light picks up.
One by one, in no particular order, the streetlights click off and each glows like an ember for about a minute before winking out for the day.
On my quiet side street not far from Sunrise Blvd. people are walking dogs. One guy has an old dog and a young dog. The old dog, a wiry haired golden tan mutt, trails behind and the young dog, a black pit bull mix, pulls ahead, ready for what’s around the next corner. The guy stumbles along in the middle caught between weariness and anticipation.
Another guy has a young dog with one of those fancy new leashes that runs around the dog’s nose. The man seems intent on keeping the dog in the proper dog walking position and he does. The dog would like to wander but he doesn’t.
Bridget, who lives across the street, has had over the years a continual supply of identical (to me) dachshunds and the occasional terrier. The doxies are generally mean natured and will nip you given the chance. They always bark. When she walks the current batch of dogs the terrier, a female Jack, tags along off leash and one of Bridget’s cats has decided to do the morning dog walk and follows about 15 feet behind.
Then there are the two girls with the three chihuahuas. They take turns walking the dogs that are always perky and bouncy and as happy to see this well-trod block as if it were a paradise just revealed for the first time.
Down the way is a woman with a big Doberman and a little lap dog. The woman lives in the new fancy townhouses. The dogs are well-behaved.
Sometimes I sit on the steps with coffee and watch the changing light and dog parade. Sometimes I go out to the street and lean on the car and look off toward the sunrise.
Everyday is a new beginning.