It's January, but the sun is shining on the harbor. I look out my window, and the colors of an orange to pink sunrise surprise and delight me. I stare at a sky of possibility that changes by the second. The water, the windows next to mine, reflect back brilliant color.
I sip my fresh, new coffee at the window. I don't usually do that, but this sunrise, that you wouldn't believe unless you saw it, has the power to transport me. I think it's time I let it. So as I stand at my window, I let my reality go, and I follow my imagination.
I see myself down on the dock, walking in the sunrise. I don't need a coat as I drink in the blue, becoming bluer, of the water with what I didn't know were my so hungry eyes. I walk. I stroll. I place my feet just so between the board on the dock, remembering the fun of being 5 years old. I revel in the space of a world that has sunrises.
I walk right from that dock to the riverbank of my childhood. That takes me to the memories of my younger, older brother who taught me how to watch him when he was fishing. I smile to think about how my job at almost 9 years younger was officially that of watcher. He may have thought he tricked me. I won the reward of that job. I have the images. I have the wonder. I have the mornings like this to prove that.
The riverbank becomes the mountains in the spring with flowers blooming. I stretch out on my tummy, like I used to do to watch TV to get a close up of the crocus. I've gotten to be friends with these brave, little spring flowers that show even through the snow. They are a lot like sunrise. They are hope and proof that good things keep happening.
In with a deep breath, as the sky finally goes fully blue. I come back to the beautiful harbor that waits for boats that won't be back for months yet. I know that it's still January, but that's okay with me.
Every day has a sunrise out my window.
--me strauss Letting me be