Mike was out last night playing baseball (a late game, meaning they didn’t even start until 9:00 and I shouldn’t expect him home until after 11:00 unless his team was schooled or they trounced the other time) and when I got home from a late dinner with friends I decided I should take the dog for a walk, seeing as neither of us had gotten any exercise yesterday due to the oppressive heat.  I used to walk Daisy late in the evening all the time, long meandering walks designed to exhaust my body enough so I could sleep, but I haven’t done it in ages for a variety of reasons, not least of which is the problem I have with mosquitoes and the fact that I never really found the twilight walks made any difference to my ability to fall asleep. 

But Daisy and I set out tonight together, fairly shortly after a brief but intense rainshower that did nothing to dissipate the heat OR the humidity.  I left my phone at home, which meant I didn’t have any tunes, and I guess I did a little bit of what my friend Luke often talks about, “making space” to think and reflect on things.  Not that I thought or reflected on much of anything, but rather on the peaceful nature of the neighbourhood, the smell of clean laundry that wafted toward me at intervals, the chalk drawings on the sidewalks not quite washed away by the rain.  I wish I could have taken pictures of all of this, to guard against a time when I won’t remember or care what it’s like to walk at dusk right after the rain.  The way the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the street, the red flash of cigarette embers as a motorcycle sped by, the sky indigo in places but black in others.  The twinkle lights and solar lamps casting a warm glow around houses containing people asleep, or preparing to sleep.  The sound of the dog’s claws clicking on the pavement.