I woke up hungry, as I often do, but it wasn’t time for breakfast. It wasn’t even time for coffee. It was time for a wee morning hour bathroom visit and back under the covers for more sleep. But my stomach growled, so I crept, quiet as a mouse, like a little girl afraid of getting caught.

The hardwood floor slots in the hall so apt to creak loud enough to wake the rest of the house. I found my way in the dark to the kitchen, opened the fridge, squinted at its bright light, and fumbled in the cheese drawer. The pre-sliced pack of medium cheddar would suffice. I unzipped the package and finagled a piece, then put all the things back in place.

On the way back to the bedroom, I stopped at the living room window. The glamour from the street lamp highlights the front yard. And like they heard me, inside in the dark, quiet as I could be, they each perked their ears. A symphony of heads slanted my direction. I had interrupted their feasting. A stranger first on the scene with this family of deer.