Reach Up for the Sunrise

Much as I love the fall, I am no fan of getting up before the sun. Hauling the compostable container from my toasty comfy bed to shuffle down a cold dark hallway, flipping on lights as I go, seems to get harder with each successive weekday morning.

We are now past the fall equinox. The sun rises almost an hour after I do, and about twenty minutes before Ter and I leave for work. On a clear morning, I eat my breakfast while watching a spectacular show. On a clear morning, I watch the sun rise from the Ocean Room window.

It’s a remarkable thing when the gold spark winks above the horizon. Time stops. An unexpected serenity settles over me. I stand transfixed in a gradually spreading pool of warm toffee light. Every cell in my being leans toward it. I unfold like a flower. I raise my arms as if to embrace the glory and bring it to my heart. On a good day, I carry it with me. On a not-so-good day, I cherish the moment and head out the door only to pause on the front stoop and marvel once more at the gift of living across the street from a daily miracle.

The sun doesn’t hurry. It comes on its own schedule, with a majesty unparalleled by any other natural phenomenon, and it happens every single day. People complain about the rain and cloud and fog and cold, and every time I say to them, “The sun is up there; you just can’t see it.”

I get a lot of funny looks, but I also get some smiles.

Almost every culture and society throughout history has associated the sun with their most powerful deity. Being a night owl, I haven’t always understood the attraction. I used to enjoy the sunset more, simply because a different kind of magic—my kind of magic—occurs after the light fades and the noisy, bustling, chaotic world goes to sleep. I used to stay up and write all night, and man, I produced a ton of stuff. I plan to do it again, once I retire from my daytime gig. I love the night. For me, it’s the most mysterious and creative and expansive time of the 24 hour cycle, and if I could stay awake past nine p.m., I’d have that darned novel in the can and be two more ahead!

Until then, however … “Sun, sun, sun, here it comes …”