It's Different At Night

After a stressful day, I decided to take a warm night ride to loosen up.

Pushing my way past the sticks and limbs left by the neighbor on the corner, taking up half the alleyway, I turn on my twin lights to realize one is going out.

But the traffic is light, so I chance it.

Everything appears to be different in the shadows. It is the same journey from this morning, but so much is hidden.

Turning my usual right hand I view the north star and the orange crescent moon cradling in the bottom of the sky. On a winter day they would be high and bright and light up the night, but tonight they are muted and faded in the darkness.

Rows of the metal, rubber, and glass machines sit idle, asleep, awaiting the morning light to chariot their passengers to work.

The next turn bids me a stop. One, two, no three bunnies munching on the clover. I talk to them quietly, but they do not know my voice. I wait as they part to their destined safe spots before moving onward, only to stop again for another of the long eared night creatures. This is their time, so I can be patient.

Moving up to the house where a new roof was put on in one day, but there were lots of helpers, I notice them packing up. They have been at this task all day. I think of Daniel Pink's "Drive" book about working for self pride, not just monetary reward.

Pass the house with major construction and lots of light. A new beginning for an old house to be renewed for another family to create memories. Will they remember the screen porch? Will they remember that big black Shepard?

Around the next corner and up the hill in the quiet. The street that usually contains children doing somersaults and workmen in white trucks, is empty. Void of noise and movement.

Off to the left, I see some blue lights, but I have to venture further until I pass by to investigate.

I do not see the old man sitting on the bench but know he is inside. Everyone is inside. Dim lights in some windows. Blank space in some windows. Blue flickering light in some windows.

Then the blue light wrapped around the doorway to Cheryl's old house. It must mean something to someone, but it is unusual for this neighborhood.

The next block presented flashing white and yellow lights remembrance of the winter season with the front porch trees also wrapped. Light and refreshing, I press up the hill pass the police car and trace my path to avoid the pothole which would be a death trap to me. The siren in the distance I wish to keep away.

A quick glance at the old remodeled blue T-ford under wrap sleeping for another day.

The trees have almost fully blossomed shading the sky and draping the neighborhood in black spots in the evening.

Up pass the little cottage, I now call "Home" and realize it is just that.

The air is fresh and just what I needed to regroup my spirit.

As I drift down the narrow street guarded by metal monsters sitting in wait, I shake off the emotions of finishing a chapter. Now it is just time to await a call to explain or watch for the deposit which may be my last chance to take an extreme step. Sensibility will overcome the emotions and I'll just pay the property tax for several years.

Maybe not?

Silently I pause in the shadows watching two spot lights whiz past from left and right, saving room from the trailer loaded with racing gasoline for the approaching weekend's activities.

With everything put away in it's proper place, a spot of tea and ready for another night of quick sleep and the dark time.

Another project has been checked off the to-do-list.

Tomorrow is just another day in just another life.