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… writing by windows, in solitude, with only raindrops in the background.

…  being alarmed by a sharp crack against the glass, fearing it’s a bird, possibly one of our beloved resident hummingbirds.

…  leaping up to discover something new:  an oversized key from the broad-leaf maple towering next to our apartment.

…  the key is copper-gold, and heavier than the maple keys I remember from the East Coast.

These are so tough that their base is almost like wood, which explains that harsh sound when they hit our windows.

I’m relieved and amused, thinking of my West Coast self, somewhat tougher and more seasoned than my East Coast youth.

I’m grateful for a rainy, quiet day to contemplate such life changes … and the time to marvel at maple keys.

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