Just Before Dawn on Thursday

Up before the sun. Hummpfff.

The mythical Evangeline was expelled from Acadie in 1755, on her wedding day because she would not forsake her Catholic heritage and spent years trying to find her husband from her new home in Louisiana. The real Evangeline, Evy I call her, is roaming around my apartment trying to find her bearings and wondering who this lumbering giant she has been forced to share living space with is. I am no Gabriel, no lost lover, no Acadian troublemaker. I am spoiling her like mad, however, trying to convince her she has nothing to fear from me.

The cool morning air carries the sounds of sirens through my window and I wonder that anyone is out misbehaving. The days are growing shorter, the nights are long and my sleep is troubled by strings of memory, wound like reminders, around my finger. The others have been quiet, too, tired and on the injured list for roughhousing. Its just as well; today is a day for watching and waiting.