Morning Walk
Vibrations. My phone. I roll under the heavy quilt and fumble to find the buzzing on my nightstand. It’s dark. My eyes feel glued shut. I rub them as I struggle to see the bright screen in front of me, telling me its 6am. Why can’t I feel this tired when I go to bed? Maybe I’ll go back to sleep.
Movement on the bed. He knows it’s time. I hear the thump of his tail and feel him stretch out his long, slender body. There’s no going back to sleep now. As I rise, the thumps get louder – he knows. I blindly make it to the washroom and change into what I think is suitable clothes for a walk. It’s possible my shirt is on backwards.
Grab my phone, apply lip balm (or my lips will be parched), and open the bedroom door. He quickly jumps off the bed and stretches again. One big, entire body shake rids him of any sleepiness he may have – why is it so easy for him? Down the dark stairs into a cold, dark kitchen. I must be quiet so as not to wake the kids. My stomach rumbles.
Sneakers laced, jacket on, hat and gloves. Put on his harness, though he’s too excited to stay still, and make sure I have my reflective vest on. Leash clipped in. Disarm the alarm. Off we go.
The cold air hits me like a smack in the face. It stings my cheeks and burns my lungs. Okay, I’m awake now. Let’s do this. It takes a while to get going, waiting for him to do his business, but soon we are off. Walking quickly through the dark, I look up – stars are everywhere. Streetlights try to outshine them but it’s impossible. The sky is so clear. I inhale deeply, so deep I can feel the coldness sear through my core. I am breathing in the very night (morning?) sky sparkling above me.
All the houses I pass are dark and quiet. The world is still sleeping. Soon they will be waking and getting coffee, or dressing for school, about to begin another day. I can smell laundry near one house, another has a faint light somewhere towards the back – someone else is awake now too. What do other people do in the morning hours? Do they linger in bed, sip coffee near a window, rush to get out the door? Where do they go? Off to work, or school, or maybe they stay home and fill their days with books or writing?
Leaves rustle in the trees. Only a few still hang on. Most have fallen now. There is a carpet of them crunching under foot in some places. Chestnuts cracked open and crushed on the pavement by idle children. Dog berries squished. Mushrooms pop out on lawns like images in a storybook. The bare limbs of tress make dancing shadows under the streetlights. Some stretches are so dark I begin to imagine someone jumping out at me. No. I am safe. It is just me and him, my faithful companion, and we walk together in silence. Sometimes I hum a song and he looks at me wondering what it must mean. He keeps busy smelling rocks and grass and invisible things that I don’t even notice. Another deep, long breath in. This is peace. To feel so tiny and alone in the big world. To be awake when almost everyone else is sleeping. To have space in my mind to think about everything and nothing. To coat my lungs with fresh, cold air, is truly a wonderful way to wake up.
We walk past the school now. Soon it will be bustling with children and parents saying goodbye, and teachers welcoming their students. Now it stands silent and empty, waiting for warm bodies to run through it’s halls once again. Windows show dark classrooms full of artwork and pictures. Little desks waiting for their students. We keep walking. I can hear the ocean. It rumbles in the distance, the crackling sound of water pulling the rocks back into the sea. The crash of the waves as they hit the shore. How lucky am I to be so near to such a wonder. The call of the sea is a beautiful one. One I don’t think I could ever live without.
On the homestretch we pass more houses, lights are on in most now. People are rising, eating breakfast, getting dressed. In some, I see people fussing about in the kitchen. Some cars pass us as people head off to who knows where. The sky is a little lighter now, and it has swallowed the stars for another day. Crows make a scene in the trees – warning each other of our presence. Other birds chatter back and forth. Somewhere a dog barks – no doubt hearing us and wanting to meet. A cat crouches, frozen in place, hoping my friend won’t notice her.
At the end of the road, I see a bus stop and pick up some kids – early for catching a bus. They must’ve been up for a little while too – rushing to eat and get ready. Mornings should be slow and savored, when did they start becoming so hectic?
Almost home, just one more hill. The sky is lighter and the clouds dance across the pale blue sky. The sun is not up but it’s light reaches the tops of the trees. The sky is cotton candy mixed with lavenders and blues. I can see my breath in clouds before my face. Soon I will be home, and my day will begin for real. I savor this last stretch of quiet. More cars pass and the lonely, peaceful feeling is gone – the world is awake now. I am no longer a quiet observer in a sleeping world. I am a moving, noise-making cog in the wheel that has started spinning again for another day.
As I approach, the rooster crows, telling all who can hear that today has begun. The sun is just up over the hill now, sending its bright light high above the roof of my house. Inside I will find hot coffee on, sleepy-eyed children, and my day officially beginning. My friend is happy to be home – he will no doubt curl up on the couch now and get back to sleep, happy to have explored the dark morning with me. I will sip coffee and light the woodstove and get ready for another day. My legs ache, but it feels good.