I step outside with Praan on my iTunes, and this beautiful lavender sky arches overhead. We're supposed to have storms and the morning sky is dim with clouds.
The morning moon is still there, low over the rooftops as I start down the street. My camera can't find anything to focus on, so the snapshot comes out a misty blur--perfect for how I feel this early morning. Yesterday my horoscope said to watch out for falls and accidents, but I seemed to make it through the day intact. Wonder what amusements my horoscope holds for today. Randomness, says Dave, dismissing it all with a wave as I read his to him on some mornings. We both laugh, not taking it seriously. Usually we walk together, but this morning I only have songs for companionship.
That and my Endomundo app, which calls out my mile to me over Tengo La Voz. Since I've been sick, I'm a full two minutes slower. Well, at least I'm out here. At the end of my walk, I stretch out my calves on the curb, wave to neighbor, pick up the paper and carry it inside with me. The antibiotics I'm on have an interesting side effect of making me feel like I've chewed up a skyscraper in my mouth so the morning's breakfast tastes like metallic banana bread, metallic orange juice, metallic yogurt. I think about Peter, as I pop the nut from the top of the banana bread into my mouth. I have this habit of putting slices of walnut on top of the bread, but didn't remember why I did this. It was a habit started long ago and Peter reminded me of it when we saw each other this summer; he doesn't like nuts and that's how I identified the nutty loaf from the plain. Funny how you start something and over time it becomes like a tree ring: integral to a life. Like a walk. Like a relationship. Like the sun rising each morning.