I've been seeing a lot of sunrises over the past few months. Okay, not sunrises exactly, but early morning sun. For those who know me, that probably comes as a surprise. It goes like this...
Every year when I Amtrak back to New England, I have to readjust my schedule to that of a house with two small children -- no quiet late nights, and luxuriating in bed till ten a.m. I don't mind; I get to spend all the hours of the day with my sister and her family. Quiet reading time is still a must, so I snuggle in "Kiki's Room" with a book at night, switching off the light at midnight or so, and then my basic-five-years-ago cell phone rings annoyingly around seven, reminding me to get up, shove contacts into my swollen eyes, grab some coffee, and settle down on the couch with J and V and R for "Curious George" while we let my sister sleep in.
Early summer mornings have been the rule for seven years now, and I've discovered a small -- very small -- taste for the weak lemon light at the start of the day, and the odd feeling that I might actually get multiple things done before it's even noon. (A trip to the beach! Or maybe just the local market, library, and sundry errands, but still!)
And then every year when I return to New Mexico, it takes me a few weeks to get back to my normal schedule -- a few bizarre weeks of snapping awake in the dark at five a.m., perhaps even wondering where I am (and who the fuck is that naked man beside me?). A funny thing happened this year after my return, though. I kept getting up early.
I don't know why. I mean, it's partly on purpose; a job hovers in the near-future. But despite having been a night owl my whole life, I'm actually enjoying the mornings. The New Mexico summer sun isn't like New England's, obviously -- it's white-hot and bright from the second it rises over the Organ Mountains. But early morning has a quiet and peace that's not unlike late nights.
I miss the silent vampire dark. But sitting here with my coffee, listening to the chatter of birds, watching my cats prowl around the east-facing porch, I feel almost as if my sister is inside, in the kitchen, pouring her own coffee and getting ready to share another beautiful New England day with me. So close even though she's so far...that makes it totally worthwhile.
(from andi, who's having problems logging in)That's a beautiful post, Kiki. I love quiet mornings - they're very rare in my part of the woods, but sometimes - spring and fall, anyway - I can wake up in time to have a cup of coffee and listen to the shift change - the last soft hoots of the owls in the woods nearby, then nothing. Once it lasted almost five minutes - and the A/C was off, so there was complete silence. Then the birds started, one at a time, and the dogs began their morning walkabout, which started the other neighborhood dogs barking, and... well, it goes from there. Which is a roundabout way of saying I know exactly what you mean. And that you can connect it to your sister is even better.
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