Walking in the Dark

I forgot how much I love walking in the dark and the cold-but-not-too-cold.

Street lamps don't light everything, so there is sport in avoiding sidewalk cracks and patches of thick ice. I love the crunch of gravel under my feet. I feel uneasy pebbles beneath my soles. I can hear them crack in my wake, even though I walk with earbuds, listening to podcasts of The News from Lake Wobegone and The Writer's Almanac.

I don't so much mind the dogs who yelp at me from their side of the fence. I just bark back, and enjoy being a tenor voice in a chorus once again. It's been too long since the last time I sang that tune.

I delight in being the lone pedestrian. In my neighborhood, there's little chance of getting jumped. No pickpockets, thieves or gangs are around. No stray teenagers loiter in crisp 39° weather.

I like how my ears turn cold and red while the top of my head is steamy, body heat rising into my black cap. I like how my own exertion fuels my body temperature. I revel in scooting from shadow to shadow, a shadow myself in suede shoes and dark jeans. I like swallowing frigid air while I gradually warm up in an insulated hoodie and Isotoner gloves. I abandoned my winter scarf and wool coat when the Chinooks and rainstorms ran through the Valley.

What annoys me are those cars, their headlights too stark, steering home from work on wet streets, the glow of a cell phone plastered to the driver's ear. I relinquish my right-of-way, hurrying them through our mutual intersections with an impatient stance and a wave of my hand.

I like the dark. I really like the dark. I like the frosty air in my lungs. I like stomping out my inner churnings where few bother to see or hear me. I like watching the vapors rise in front of my eyes as I curse my frustrations to the deaf heavens.

And when the first mile has passed and the rhythm of my gate has soothed my furrows, I like slowing my pace at the curb and watching my neighbors through uncurtained windows, greeting one another, sharing a meal, nestling before blue-screened TVs.