Lately, I've been waking up at the perfect time to enjoy the sunrise. I quietly have my cereal down in the kitchen, tucked in at the old Girl Scout camp picnic table that my father-in-law found at an old salvage shop in Michigan. The heat starts to blow through the vents, and slowly, the house starts to wake up. The cats stare quizzically at the vents and then turn back to their bowls.
When I make my way back upstairs, the pink light is starting to peek through the curtains. Sometimes the shower walls turn golden pink as I stand there in the thick steam, and I know that the sky is starting to wake up, too. Sometimes I wait a bit before washing up, and I stand in the guest room so I can peek out at the sky. If the clouds are rippled just right, then they turn magnificent shades of sunrise-- pinks, golds, yellows, reds. Even on a cloudless morning, the sky looks beautiful as color starts to soak each corner and curve.
It lasts only a few minutes. I can't stand there forever. The day is beginning, and I must get back to my routine. But still, the sun is beckoning, and I decide to peer out the window for just a moment more.
