The morning after the karaoke party, having been awake since three o’clock, I was ready for breakfast by seven. And I was out of eggs. So I got dressed and went to 7-Eleven.
When I stepped out into the street, I could feel the sea.
It was like being next to a beach.
Of course I know that all the water covering the planet is mixed together, but how can you feel the sea in the air in the middle of a desert? Yet, on this cloudy, breezy morning, I could feel it.
The sun rose over the roofs . . .
. . . and shot over the neighborhood to the mountains, turning them gold.
Pigeons and grackles bustled around in the street. Everything touched by the light glowed with warmth. The sea began to recede.
I purchased the eggs and started back toward home. The bakery was open. On the opposite corner, a business owner was starting her day, setting up her umbrellas to shield her breakfast preparations from the sun, pausing to take her own photos of the mountains.
Most days at sunrise, I am just arriving at school. I go through the line to clock in, climb the stairs and unlock my classroom door, sit down and wake up my computer. Now and then I look out the window. On this Sunday morning, though, being out in the street at sunrise, with time and quiet to hear and see and feel all the parts of this time of day, was a treat. It wasn’t more than twenty minutes, but in that time I felt a connection to earth and sky, a refreshing of my mind and spirit, and a comforting reminder of the oneness of creation.