A sliver of pink cut through white, this was our view of sunrise from down the hill. Neither of us thought much of the view when we first looked out the window. So it seemed, a day to connect you to the next, you could pick up a milk or cinnamon roll on your way out the door. My doctor and his nurse had a way of warming up to me, cautious and steady, and over the phone they began to say — How you feeling? The polyp was benign as I had thought. . . and such.
