The Sun or Its Rise

I’ve parked at the top of the mountain at a hotel that sits at its peak. The pinks, purples, and oranges reflected in the clouds distracted me on the drive here. Glorious views in between trees caught my expectant eye. I made it here just in time. As soon as I shifted into park and turned off the engine, the bright bulb of the sun began to make its daily appearance. Its glow like nothing else, forcing me to take a breath, almost holding it as the rest of the fiery star came into view. Nothing else existed in that moment. Just me and the sun. I felt lucky to be in its presence, like it’s a superstar in society’s terms. A few feet away is my husband, parked in his own car, already reading. You see, he doesn’t come for the giant star that our world orbits around. He comes for the preamble. The colors that paint the clouds, the sky, reflected in every skyscraper and window alike, a painting only accessible if you make it out of bed in time. That’s why he came here and much earlier than me. I saw glimpses of his favorite part of the earth’s daily ritual as I drove to the mountaintop. But once the sun begins to rise, he turns away, the brightness blinding, the beauty over with, and the day beginning. Yet, that’s when I come alive. This very phenomenon is equally reflected in how we operate in our daily lives. I’m rushing to get somewhere for a specific purpose, while he is content with arriving early, with no plan, simply enjoying what the time brings. He comes over to my car once the sun has finished it’s debut and tells me goodbye for the day. We go our separate ways, he heads for the office, while I stay in the sun’s presence, just a while longer before heading home to my own.