life in the darkness

Now that the time has changed, it’s dark when I get home and it takes a lot of motivation to get myself outside in the cold to walk the dogs. However, their incessant barking and sheer jumpy craziness makes going outside easier than staying in, so out we go.

I like walking at night; it reminds me I live in a neighborhood, with people that do things and have lives that do not revolve around me. At night, smells come out. I can smell dinner cooking here, dryer sheets there, car exhaust around the corner. The lights come on at night, illuminating the lives inside. The houses that are just familiar sights during a day walk create what becomes my neighborhood at night: I can see that the house on the corner of Dahlia is watching tv (as always) and their yappy catdog sits on their couch, staring at the window to tease my pups. I can see that the looming, large mansion I pass by is as cold at night as it is during the day: the ivy sways in a slight breeze and all the windows remain dark, save for the light coming from the garage, the laundry room, and a porch light. Through the reflection in the front window, a large collection of plates displayed in a china hutch is illuminated; I imagine the plates mean something to someone. I walk past Stoop/Poop and Audrey’s house, the lights on and I guess that they are watching tv or reading stories with their parents, because I know it’s past their dinner time. I see the first set of Christmas lights, white and immaculately straight as they light up the house they adorn. The ceramic goose outside of the Glencoe house is always dressed up, tonight it is a pilgrim woman. The lights are on in many of the houses I pass; the avenues convert from blank, city houses to living, lighted homes that house the lives of those around me. I see people talking, eating, watching tv. I smell their dinners and laundry, and I walk past their autumn decorations, inviting the family over for the holiday in a few weeks. No one sees me, or the dogs, walking by.

When we walk at night, Jola and Myla sniff a lot; I like to think that the whole day has collected into a brand new scent that settles onto the ground, shrubs and trees they sniff. They sniff to find out information, to get closer to knowing something, to explore. I would say that my night walks are my own version of sniffing: the weight of the day is released at night as the houses come alive, and I get to take a glimpse in, look around and explore what makes my neighborhood a living, breathing place.