Sometimes I would wake up to a silent house. That meant Mom and Dad were off on a walk, otherwise there would be sounds and smells of breakfast cooking. Everyone else was asleep from what I could tell. These mornings excited me, they were summer mornings, which meant no school to worry about, and at this age, very few chores. Being one of the first awake made me feel like I had a good jump on the day. Though I knew my day would be full, I felt like I could afford to take it slow until breakfast.
Lyman is very flat, so even early in the morning the rays of sunshine hit and warm every east facing surface. Though the air is still chilly it doesn’t bother you cause you know that it will soon be warm.
The air is still and holds the moist scent of dew on grass, earth and concrete. Robins chirp and sing from everywhere, out to clean up the worms. To this day their racket always takes me back to those summer mornings with nostalgic pleasure. I remember wandering through the silent kitchen, all the lights are off yet the room is bright with the sun shining through the glass door and white lace curtain, onto the island and the stools. The living room is also lit up and leaves from the cottonwood trees out front cast shadows on the flowery wall paper.
I go out the front door and sit on the cold concrete steps to wait for Mom and Dad to return from their walk. The sunlight glistens on the grass and the sidewalks are damp. I shiver a little and walk out in bare feet to where the sun warms the side-walk in front of the yard. Up and down the street everything is glowing in the morning light.
After a while, Mom and Dad come around the corner down by the canal. Soon they are back and the kitchen comes alive. Dad turns on the radio and Mom turns on the stove. The smell of pancakes brings more of us down stairs. The day starts right after breakfast.