七時

At 7:00, crépescule starts to happen. The heat of the sun soften. The deer and the javelinas come out. A kind of quietness descends.

It was at that time that she and I would often go walking past the library, north on Grove down the tree-lined street. Circle back on Elizabeth. Marvel at all the tremendous houses, some of them by Frank Lloyd Wright. 

We were childless then, and penniless. And pretty much hopeless. Or at least, I was. I think maybe because she carried the possibility of a better future inside her she was more hopeful than I was. She always has been. 

Now, 15 years on, we've gone from that place. We have kids now and more money, but my body doesn't work as reliably as it did back then. All that happens is getting older and wearing down. 

Even the sun has spent that much of itself. It still warms, and around 7:00, its light still changes wonderfully, but it lifts with even less hope. It's just the same turning and, with each spin, a withering. 

しちじ