Five-forty-five in the morning, sunlight pouring in my window, wildly the birds are singing like there is no tomorrow, in tune with the rustling of the trees and the nearby crop duster dances in the sky… my Mother’s voice belts out to Sacha and Fabrice, (a French friend who is here with us this summer,) "If you want to go with me to the hall, I am leaving in ten minutes!" The floor boards are broken, this I am certain, by their springing from the bed! I hear them scurrying, as my Mother calls out from the kitchen, "We’ll eat there! Come on you boys!" As if they have been spending hours goofing off….I hear them running down the hall, and the predictable screen door slam!
Smiling from the pleasure of being home, noticing nothing has changed….Who can sleep in the country?
Photo: Turn-of-the-century clocks, that I packed in my suitcase from France, for my Mother: who doesn’t need an alarm clock!
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