DECEMBER NIGHT
When the chime of the anniversary clock let me know it was eleven, I began the nightly routine of shutting down the computer, locking the doors and turning out the lights. Finished with my personal bedtime preparations, I turned out the last light and moved to the bedroom window facing the house directly across our quiet suburban street. I put the blind up far enough to see out and stood still to watch the barely lit landscape.
A black cat strolled up the driveway I was perusing, not sensing any danger to it's unwelcome exploration of that yard. I knew the arrogant cat, I'd run it off the fence closest to my bird feeder countless times. At least it probably wouldn't be hunting birds in the middle of the night.
The next nighttime visitor was a stranger surprise. A fawn, past the spotted stage but not grown was making her way around the corner from the usually busy cross street. She seemed hesitant on the asphalt and stopped, tense when a car went by on the street behind her. I watched in amazement as she turned and went into the shadows behind the neighbors tree. I couldn't think of where she had come from. A very developed suburb built on farm land during the seventies left few places for deer.
Looking up again, I saw the signal I'd been waiting for. The drapes in the unlighted house across the street had opened slightly. I knew the tiny, frail and very elderly woman who lives there was seeing the empty street and my raised blind. Her husband was now in a care center and she was alone in the large house, often afraid. Since the day she'd told me she found comfort in a late night survey of the outside world, I've made the effort to let her know she has a sister across that road. When we see each other during the daytime hours, in the yards or at the mailbox, we might chat a little but we never mention the late night silent connection. Its a confidence we don't talk about but she doesn't mention being so afraid anymore.

Finding Clarice by Jo-Brew exerpt
Chapter 4

The bright sunlight woke Clarice early but she closed her eyes and snuggled into the warmth of the bed. She lay half awake and realized she felt wonderful, full of anticipation. She stretched and discovered the longish soak in the hot bath last night had done a lot to avoid stiffness. In spite of the coziness of the bed, she had no desire to linger once she'd reached awareness. She wanted to be up and active. She threw the covers back and felt for her slippers with her bare feet. She located them, stood and stretched again, as tall as she could.

She marveled at the change from her usual morning blues. The fear of a seriously damaged career wasn't her first waking thought. The boredom of the recovery routine hadn't kept her weighted down in the bed. It was a promising morning.

She began her regular recovery routine with her stretching exercises and then poured her juice. While she swallowed pills and drank, she stood at the east facing window and soaked up sunshine. She admitted to herself, the excitement she was feeling was because Ray would call, probably soon.

Before she'd had time to savor the anticipation, the phone rang. Her "Hello?" was followed by a short silence.

"I'd forgotten your voice could sound so husky. Good morning. I hope you were up." Ray explained, "I didn't want to wait."

www.Jo-Brew.com