The Sounds of Early Morning

At about 6:15 I ran out of my door and dropped my keys down the temporary metal ramp my husband had leaned against the porch seven years earlier, when we built the house in lew of the wooden stairs he had planned. It was startling cold with a wind chill of minus 14 below and I was running late. Normally I would have been at work already for a good half an hour, mediating my crew, but this morning it was too cold for me to leave my cozy bed. My keys made a scratching sound on the ramp before coming to a crunching stop at the gravel. The wild cats meowed their good mornings as they rose with a rustle from their recycling box homes when I headed to my cold jeep to rev it's frozen engine into life. The heater whooshed frosty air on my ankles. My wind chimes clinked with a brittle sound in the wind on my porch when I stepped out of my car. Hubby had proudly made them out left over polished brass pipe from his last job for me. I hated them at first. I was annoyed that they broke my silence. I would pull it's clanker over the banister to quieten them. But now I think of him when I hear them, how he tried to make me something beautiful instead of practical. I always welcome the sound of his love.
There was a rustling sound in the hen house, but not yet a crow. The chickens were not fast to leave their warm beds ether.
I clunked back across my deck into the house for my warm cup of coffee to go, and my brief case when I was greeted by K1 who had slipped in front of the kitchen TV in my short absents outside.
"Morning Mom", his greeting is brief, knowing I can only grunt at him this time of day. The smack of our lips is heard over the morning news."Ugh coffee breath", he mutters.
I hear the sound of the steady hum of the oxygen machine being turned off and know Hubby is now awake and will not let me out of his sight without some conversation to start his day.
I slip out the door as fast and soft as I can without spilling my coffee.
On the radio in my jeep the local DJ is talking of the untimely death of the singer from Quiet Riot.
I sing along to "Come on feel the noise", in my morning frog voice as I pull out of my drive. I hurt my own ears and embarrass myself in front of me. I gave myself a warning glare in the rear view mirror, but was glad when I could not see myself.