How many sunrises have I missed in my lifetime?
I wake with the sun these days, reluctantly at first, I admit.
The other morning, I stepped out on my front deck, coffee in hand, to find a mature female doe staring at me from in between the rows of yellowing soybeans across the road from my house. We paused, she and I, to stare at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. I moved first - for my camera - but she darted away in a start, leaving only the stillness of steam rising from the tiny lake in the field.
The mid-September sun rises in a yellow haze. It glows off the trees and shines in rays that part the horizon sweetly, gently, like a child turning back the blankets from sleep.
I sip the coffee, also steamy. Ghost-like, the vapors rise in the cool morning air and warm my nose. In the distance, I watch the same vapors rise from the lake. It is quiet. I shiver in my hooded sweatshirt, and yet savor this moment, right now, for all it brings.
Time stands still for just this moment.
Sophie comes to the door. She is dresses smartly in a sea foam and black striped sweater and matching scarf, "skinny" jeans, and black Chuck Taylor Converse. Her blonde bangs brushed neatly over to the left side of her face, she smiles at me through her black rimmed glasses.
She is so "hip," this pre-teen adolescent of mine. Sometimes her beauty and charisma shine as brightly as this sun.
"What time is it, mom?"
I look out at the sun peaking over the horizon. It is the dawn of a new day.