Technically, it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t officially rise for another hour. But this was the full moon’s moment as it illuminated my early morning walk with my dog.
About half way around the block, with another half mile to go, I realized what a blessing and privilege it is to be able to walk in the dark with no one else around and feel completely safe. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful.
I’ve been in cities in Haiti where every home was surrounded by a concrete walls topped with razor wire or pieces of broken glass. I would not be out walking during the day, much less at night. I’ve lived in the inner city, where the night echoed with the noise of arguments, speeding cars, and gunshots. The bitter thirty degrees below zero cold of a midwest winter cut any time I spent outside to less than a minute. One hundred mile an hour hurricane winds made me tell the dog, “You’re gonna have to hold it.”
But this morning’s air is motionless. Shorts and a t-shirt were perfect. No cars are out on the road. No one else is walking their dog. Owls hoot to each other in the distance before other birds begin their morning song. A motion light turns on as we walked by. The only sounds are my footsteps, the clicking of tiny toenails on the street, and the faint sound of a single engine airplane somewhere overhead.
To no one in particular I said out loud, “I’m going to write about this moment.”
Waite for it... 