In the Quiet Light of Dawn

The tide rolls in. Yes, it is a metaphor.

Nothing significant yet early in the day.

All night, I slept lightly. Perhaps it was the heat from yesterday pervading the house. Or the cool breeze from the open windows. Or the pile of blankets I kicked off, then pulled on, then kicked off again.

So much of yesterday swirling in my head. Dreams alight with real and imagined. The knowledge that I had to be up at a certain time, without an alarm to wake me.

And then…perfect morning. Perfect quiet. Stillness in the dawn.

When a day begins like this, you can’t ask for more.

All around is life, vivid, tantalizing, making the sounds it makes in spite of itself. Nature is like that – whirring and buzzing and chirping without thought, without practice, without concern for who might hear.

The tantalizing book is evening out into subtle meaning. I am at 80%. Work accomplished, a sunny day of heat and soccer ahead, searing into my palms. And then the kids come back.

And then we spiral into another week. And then we wander, meander, come close and grow far. It’s all good in the early dawn. Anything possible. Everything ahead.

This is a good life, every day a good day, a true and unrelenting gift.

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