Like Clockwork

My dogs still rise at six in the morning. We still stumble down the stairs; they will eat while I brew a pot of coffee.

The dogs still go for a walk mid-morning just before Micah gets in the car and heads off to work. Now I can join them and smile at the scenes that I’d only see via text.

I still get so caught up in work that I skip eating at mid-day and settle for an afternoon snack at the counter, one that sometimes turns itself right into dinner.

We still talk on the phone at about the same time. “How was your day?” and “When might you be home?”

I still sing at the top of my lungs – today it was the backyard at 4:00, not in the car – as a way to blow off some steam at the end of the day.

My daughter still talks on the phone with her best friend and laughter still emerges from the crack beneath the door.

I’ll still start to run again after a too-long hiatus.

I’ll still keep up with my Spanish-learning streak (ochenta y dos días fuerte).

We still won’t eat dinner until well after dark.

I’ll still curl up in bed earlier than I should and will still read before my book and my eyelids vie for whose heaviest.

We’ll still find a show to watch and she’ll still play games or watch movies in the room next door.

I’ll still fall asleep under the glow of the TV and wake to put everyone else to bed.

The dogs and I will still be up at six.