Here in the new house, I am happily surprised by my own awareness of the proximity of the lake in the early morning. When I awake to the perfect blue sky, feel the sun streaming in, and hear the gulls, I am immediately transported back to our last apartment in the Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco. I am startled by what a familiar, comforting feeling this is.
Lyle and I head down the block to the beach in the morning, and, among other adventures, sit in the soft sand playing with a couple of small trucks for a while. I am struck by the sounds of the beach intermingled with the sounds of the city: loud gulls squawking happily, probably thrilled that the ice has finally melted on the lake and they can leave the fast food dumpsters and return for some real food; a crow in a nearby tree caw-cawing her way through the morning; a lovely church bell chiming the hour, slowly and melodically, for us. With every new sound, Lyle turns, surprised. “I hear the dolphins!” he declares each time the seagulls become louder.