It's barely four in the afternoon and already evening has wrapped its arms around me. I sit at my window looking out, watching the neighborhood go by. There's the woman with two large goldens, holding one leash in each hand. Here goes the red pick-up whose occupant I've never seen. And twenty minutes later the maroon Infiniti, a dead-ringer for mine. I don't see my neighbor Lisa any more since her 14 year old dog Buddy died. Instead I see the geriatric couple walk up and down the street. They should do this earlier in the day. What if they fall? They live alone. What if something happens to one of them? My mind races like a thoroughbred reaching towards an elusive victory. I worry. About everything these days.
Evening reminds me of life and its end. The end of the day. The beginning of night. It's a time of transition. Melancholy yet strangely compelling.
This is evening in my neighborhood. Getting ready for night. I am.