Jim’s been back for three months now, and this household has settled into what, for us, is as close to a routine as we will probably ever have. Four am finds me in the kitchen, fixing a first cup of coffee, kitty me-r-r-r-owing in and out between my feet, impatiently awaiting a dollop of salmon or trout or tuna. Teevee muted, radio off until 5 am and my fave deejay drive-time show, the neighbor’s mega-truck not yet fired up, there’s only faint barking from distant neighborhood dogs to break the pre-dawn stillness. I used to hear a train in the early mornings, but either CSX changed the schedule or the ambient air temp is such that the lonely whine no longer carries this far.
This morning the only sounds in the house are the office window screens moving in the ubiquitous North Texas breeze (which in any other part of the Country would be considered a gale), and clicks of the computer keyboard. And the sounds of gentle snoring in the master bedroom. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
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