Too early I awoke from a deep slumber where a beautiful dream haunted my head. Strangers were talking, smoking cigarettes, and it was peaceful. My eyes were crusted from the night, and I immediately formed tight knuckles to rub away my yesterday.
I want to watch the sunrise. Awake early to watch the colors begin etching their way on a black sky as they paint over the stars with yellowish, golden orange hues and birthing blues. Nothing is new today, but the day. A day beckoning excitement. It calls forth without grandiose plans. To an onlooker it may appear mundane.
In three hours, my little boy will shoot up with an awakening. He will wipe away the sleep dust from his eyes. He will sit on my lap, snuggled under my neck while drinking his juice. He will smile and, for a brief moment at the beginning of my day, I will know I did one thing right. I will kiss his forehead as our morning ritual begins.
He will ask for “Thomas,” and I will tell him “Later, Mon Petit. Thomas isn’t on this early.” He will scrunch his face in rebellion. He huffs a similar sigh I know all too well. I will say the same promise I make every morning, “Tonight we will watch Thomas.” His hands go up immediately and he speaks toddler talk for “never give up.” He’s referencing his Thomas video, he watches it on a constant repeat. Determination is ingrained to begin his day with every desire, to begin it his way.
“Never give up, Mon Petit.”
There is an urgency to play. He wants to make haste and never stops as he runs wild embracing life, hugging each moment in his day. In these quick fleeting few moments as the sun rises calling forth our day, he is ready. Headstrong believing today is the ‘best day of his life.’
Adulthood has stripped away THIS.
Today is the best day.
It hasn’t happened yet, but nothing is set in place to stop the beautiful moments from happening. The sun will rise, and in the fast approaching new dawn the sky will gather it’s majestic beginning. Through rolling hills, lighted peaks will shine through trees that are beginning to spring back to life. The dark quiet corners will bustle. Businesses will flip signs over saying “OPEN”, and their doors will be unlocked welcoming neighbors. Streets will feel the heavy automobiles steering down their paths over the cracks and potholes.
Money is earned at jobs we may not like but, we are grateful to have them. They allow us to survive another week. Maybe even buy a chocolate milkshake and french fries as a treat. Although it is with a disgusted pace we set out opening our car doors to make that morning commute, there is a smile somewhere.
Passing a stranger, the corners on their mouths turn upwards and they say, “Good Morning.” Coworkers greet another passing minute with “How are you today?” or “Welcome to the Madhouse.” Friends begin to text asking about your little boy. They tell you about their boy, their day, and their night. Somewhere in all these random happenings, the world keeps spinning.
The clocks slowly tick away at a time that isn’t even real. Numbers which only mean something to humans. Animals don’t care about the hands on a dial or the digital readings dictating a schedule. An A.M. is eerily similar to a P.M.
The sun will set. Thomas the Train will have never given up. The day will fade away with the same colors that began the morning. The orange, golden yellow, and finally a darkened deep blue will transition its way into night. Heads will fall upon pillows, wearily craving rest. Dreams will begin, and the strangers will haunt my head again as they smoke their cigarettes.
As for now, I must go.
I want to watch the sunrise.