Sunrise

I am not an early riser.  The sunrise may be breathtaking.  Rising early may give one a sense of accomplishment.  I guess those things aren't important to me, as 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. is early enough for me.  Some days, even later is better.  This morning, however, I had to take Michael to the airport at 5:00 a.m., wondering, as we drove, if I would be able to stay awake enough to drive home.

As I drove home, I did appreciate the silhouette of the Sandias against the sky as it lightened, that glimpse of sunlight waiting to make its appearance.  As I drove east on Academy, I felt like I was in an unfamiliar place.  All I saw was dark punctuated with lights that looked like a mansion ahead, or a huge building.  It was actually the streetlights at Wyoming, transformed for a few moments.

I enjoyed my experience, but that's enough.  When I returned home, I crawled into bed for another hour. The dogs didn't complain and just cuddled up.  That's the time I appreciate the most.

I supposed I'll never totally forget those I loved..  I think of my father, or mother, or a dog at an odd moment.  And then there are the things that are the reminders of these loved ones.  This week I had a couple of reminders of my father.

For some reason, Michal was talking about how hard it was for him to steam open an envelope without damaging it.  That was one of my father's teases.  He'd write, "Steamed open by mistake" on some of the letters I received when I lived in their house.  Nothing big.  Just something that told me he loved me.  (My eyes are even tearing up remembering this.)

I played bridge with my Assistance League group yesterday.  Another reminder.  My father loved bridge, and played every Monday (I think) night for as long as I can remember.  I remember some of the people he played with, first in the little den right next to our bedroom, then, the the family room when it was added to the house.  Izzy, Leo, Nate Steinberg,...I think of the package of Oreos he'd often provide for snacks, along with popcorn, or something my mother would make.  There were grumbles when someone's partner made a wrong bid or play.

Dad was good at bridge.  He remembered cards and was a good strategist, neither trait inherited by me.

Maybe I like bridge because it reminds me of him.