I like to walk very early in the morning. The temperature is cool and there is certainly a calmness around. I do my walking in town. The country road I live in might not be the ideal place to take a walk that early. Cars fly by and on many occasions my hair has been blown back by the wind left by a fast-passing car, too close for comfort. Main Street is quiet early in the morning. Businesses are still closed, and people are just about ready to start the day. I encounter a few runners or people walking their dogs. There are few cars heading to the daily destination. I mostly hear birds singing and the noise of a few other summer critters. By the time I am done with my exercise, something magical happens, as if taken from a final scene of “The Langoliers (Stephen King).” The town starts waking up. Soon there are more cars on the road, and the noise level starts rising slowly. Businesses start opening their doors, and employees arrive. People chat briefly on the street. Slowly, the town awakens to another day. As if by magic, the town is alive. There is something sweet and beautiful about that moment, the blessing of another day.