I met Orion this morning in the rock driveway before small town USA awoke. I looked up and he was there, just waiting for me to begin my walk. Almost every morning when I see him, my first thought is “Jeannine.” She was my walking partner ten years ago and we always look for Orion’s belt in the darkness before the dawn. My next thought is always…Mom. I wonder where Heaven IS, does she now have knowledge about the stars and planets, does she see me walking.

These mornings are difficult for me when the cat alarm is on my chest at 4:30 am and I slowly begin to wake for a 5:30 exit from the covers. My mind clears and has enough clarity to fight the awakening, and I spend 45 minutes or so counting my breaths to 100, taking each breath very slowly so I don’t have to get up.

But after I dress in the dark of the closet, brush my teeth, grab my phone and ear buds and head to the door, I am all in for a 5 mile, 1 hour+ walk…me, myself, and whatever I find to concentrate on as the sun begins to light the early morning.

As I walk in the darkness, I know I am not alone. Skunk has been frightened somewhere in small town USA and the remnants of his spray join my exercise as I make my way across the high school parking lot.

I pause in the wonderful story being narrated in my ear to take a picture of the silhouettes and at the same time, I wonder, “Why does all hospital food smell the same no matter what hospital cafeteria is cooking it?”

I continue on down the runway-like road and a work truck rattles by, smelling of metal and diesel, the unknown driver probably sipping his chilly morning hot coffee from his thermos. I know chilly morning hot coffee smell. It is the best part of waking up, after all.

Mile three finds me back in town, walking the streets and watching the dark windows slowly begin to light up within, lamps by bedside tables, kitchens brightened by the coffee makers and pourers.

Nothing jars me back to reality like dead carcass of some creature that met its demise. Fortunately for me, the only part of me that experiences dead carcass is my nose. My feet did not stumble over, my eyes did not see. But the nose knows.

I am grateful for the small town USA residents who like to do some housework in the dawn of day and throw in a dryer sheet as they finish up a load of laundry. It is the carcass odor eliminator that saves mile three.

Mile four is my time to worship once again. I pause the story and listen to the quiet morning as I stare at God’s GIFT and thank Him for it. I take this picture almost every morning, like it is the last time I might see such a sight. I ask Mom if she sees it, too.

Mile five is my “I can see the finish line” mile. Orion has faded for the day, the teachers and students are making their way to the school in dryer sheet pleasantness, and as the yellow bus goes by, I look up and laugh at the audience – they see the GIFT and have the best seats in the house.

And then, there it is. The finish line. My cheerleader of one has turned the lights on and is sitting on the side porch in this 34 degree morning, and as I walk up the drive, he is singing, “Swing low, sweet chariot…” and sipping on his own chilly morning hot coffee. Another GIFT.

I am so very grateful.