January 20, Dawn

The day begins like any other, like every other. I beat the alarm: eyes snap open at 6:20, and there's a tinge of sunlight. Shuffle out into the house proper; the front of the place gets cold, so I turn up the heater a few notches. It wheezes and fires. Coffee. Six scoops, one per cup...eh, maybe a little more. There were martinis last night. I click on the TV, flip it over to the NBC affiliate. Did I run the dishwasher last night...yes, skillet, stovetop, medium high, carton of Egg Beaters, slice of cheese, English muffin. The coffeemaker gurgles and hisses. Hurry up, I think. Tendrils of sleep still cling to me. The baby monitor is lighting up; Zoe's awake. Quick diaper change - I do this with the speed and precision of a NASCAR pit crewman. Into the highchair with a bottle of milk. She grins. "BA!", she exclaims. I pour a cup of coffee. Beth and Lucas and Mick are still asleep. I sit down next to Zoe, and we both watch the TV for a few minutes, the clear cold blue sky, the flags, the monuments,  the sea of faces, thousands, millions.