A Day

   It was fairly early in the morning, and the summer day was invigorating, still with a slight chill in the air.   I had met a friend at the far end of the porch of my old house and we were walking on the sidewalk in front of the house. I don't know where we were heading to or why we were going, but we were in casual conversation until just as we reached the metal gate which my father had installed, we heard my name called in the loudest voice possible, frightening in its urgency. It was coming from the upstairs front bedroom.  I took off in response.  My friend stayed put, showing no desire to come with me.  I ran to the front door, pulled open the old wooden screen door, and turned the knob on the heavy front door, fully expecting to find that door locked.  But it opened and I ran upstairs to the source of the emergency.
      I reached the place  where the calls for help were coming from, and it was not the upstairs bedroom in my old house, and neither was it an emergency.  It was 4:30 a.m. I was in my present house.  And no one was outside waiting for me.