In Media Res

As the roar and scream of the freight train fades into the dark of Night, the only sounds that remain are the moist footfalls of my athletic shoes upon the glistening pavement.

The torrential downpours of the last few days have covered brick and steel with a wet glaze, leaving mild days and cool evenings in its passage.

Light southerly breezes smooth the brow and bring forth thoughts of imminent Spring.

I have found such an indulgence of the senses in taking this walk – the walk which brings me to my place of business, working the “graveyard shift” from 11pm to 07am. I consider it nothing short of a “perk” that I now live well within walking distance of where I work.
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Speaking of where I live…
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Candace and I were finally able to secure housing accommodations in the heart of “downtown” Overton, at a most agreeable monthly rate. It is an older house, as are most of the rentals in this old “oil boom” town, but newly refurbished and our landlord is a man of integrity.

The children are very excited about living here. With an expansive playground just a block from our front door and the public Library down another short block, not to mention the sudden immediate proximity to their grandparents, uncles/aunts, and cousins.

Old friends have steadily dropped-in and inquired as to our welfare… bringing their own children, memories, and plenty of water from under the bridge.

We’ve already moved in to our new house, and are busy about the task of fashioning this humble cottage into a home.

In this endeavor, at least, Time is our ally. We are patient, but eager to find our familiar rhythms.

O, Time.

I hesitate for a moment, Time holds me in its thrall… as in a dream, a span of hours dissolve into an instance.

With the encroachment of the Dawn, I bid a weary “adieu” to my colleagues and step out into the purple cool of early morn. I quietly sing the names of my children, saving the most earnest anthem for that of my beloved.

My physical form is enveloped by the mists that have crept upward from the nearby lowlands.

Unseen and unheard, I sing all of their names.
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Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit.

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