The unrelenting beeping of the alarm awakens me. The cat's
morning pat purr welcomes me to the day. The subway's clanka-clanka,
swoosh-swoosh, beap-bop-beap gets me to where I need to go. The group's cheerful banter greets me at the
cemetery.
The walk itself is a symphony of sounds - the subtle
hush-scrape of our shoes, the rise and fall of voices, the muted backdrop of
cars and city, bird tweets and the scrabble of squirrels in dry leaves in the occasional silences. And always, laughter, alternating with the
hush of conversation on life's more serious side.
And, if walking is a symphony, breakfast is pure jazz - by
times loud and raucous and then soft and sweet.
At home writing this, with just the sound of my computer
keys clacking, I wish I were musical so I could compose a song that celebrates
the group and what it means to me.
