Across the Threshold

I'm standing outside with the dog in the predawn dark. The wind is blowing just hard enough to get my attention.

It feels good, like its pushing something away and making space for new things. I laugh at my own optimism and stare up at the stars and then it begins.  I wasn't expecting it, not yet, not this early but there it is.

A wail.

Someone is upset about something - VERY UPSET - and I should probably go see.

But I don't.

 I stand in the wind and stare at the stars and hope it will go away.

Another long sob breaks the silence.

Dammit.

The dog looks up at me, its too dark to see her face but I imagine she's cocking one eyebrow, asking me what the hell is going on in the house to break our peace at this time of the morning.

I rub her head and slowly turn towards the house, readying myself to face, comfort, mother, adult.

Here we go.

Another anguished wail pierces the dark.

I exhale and let a heaviness fall over me.

Dammit, I wanted some peace, just for an hour, just to get my thoughts together.

The dog sniffs the air, in less of a hurry to return home than I am.

We walk back to the house and just as I step across the thresholdanother wail pierces the air and I realize that the noise isn't coming from the house.

I hear it differently this time.

The wailing isn't crying, it's honking, and it's coming from the Canadian geese that live on a lake a few houses away. 

Thank. You. God.

My house is quiet, everyone is peaceful and I get to drink a big cup of coffee here with you before facing the world today.