Woke this morning expecting it to be Wednesday. But it didn’t sound anything like Wednesday. More like Sunday or New Years Day. So I wondered and then remembered the holiday and thought how amazing, really, that a few thousand people not going to work can change the atmosphere to this degree.

Even now as I write, the paperboy is making deliveries (with a red wagon, bless him); I hear the trundling sound of the wheels through an open window and neighbours chatting. The sun is out. A faint hum of traffic, birds sing, dogs bark, train whistle, wind chimes; it’s all there, all normal, and yet…

… something undefinable is quiet that usually isn’t.

Happy red and white day. (And keep it down, willya?)

♦

Other Wordless Friends—

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