An Excerpt:
Good Morning.
I wake up with the birds. Another day begins. I am here.
Birds syncopate. In the gaps between their calls, car engines swell, tires against the road build volume. Existence and acceleration. I reach for my phone. 5:22 a.m.
The air smells of clouds. Rainbow-Trout-belly skies often come on cloudy days: slippery tones of pink and shadow grey.
I dress from a pile of clothes on the floor. Can’t find my hat. Worry I’ve lost it again. My son bought it for me. It’s golden flax colour with sky blue words: LOVE CAN MAKE IT BETTER. I shut the door behind me, look in the car. My daughter’s hat is on the front seat. I put it on. I can’t waste anymore time. I’ve made a commitment to witnessing the sun rise, to myself.
I cross the big field behind the school, my shoes woosh the wet grass. The traffic stops and I cross 16th Avenue, count down with the crossing light, 25, 24, 23. Steady pace. Eyes on the lightning sky. I got out of bed for this.
Developers plan to build here. A sign shows coloured blocks of mostly grey with some green circles. Concrete blocks of housing will rise from what used to be the-trailer-park-with-the-best-view. A few green trees may grow.
Half a block away from me, midway between the sunrise overlook and me, a man paces next to one of the few trees they didn’t clear when they moved out all the trailers. It grows outside the fence they’ve built to keep the unhoused, the kids looking for privacy and the curious off the land they’ve marked for development. The man wears basketball shorts with a white stripe down the side and a bomber jacket parka. A woman in a hoody, hair pulled back and tied with an elastic, talks into a radio. She’s in street clothes. She wears a mask.
“Was he taking anything?” She asks. I’m too far to hear the man’s response.
The sunrise is so close, just behind the emergency services building with the ambulances and paramedics. The sun breaks the deep-blue-whale-skin dawn. Orange gold shimmers, but I’m crossing the street and the building blocks my view. I clench my jaw, a little.
