Dance at Dawn

The marimba chimes startled me awake. I cursed myself, as I do every morning, for setting the alarm for such an early hour. Before I could swipe the screen to quiet the clamoring bells, I was shocked to see that someone was outside my window, pointing a light into the sanctuary of my bedroom. As the list of the imaginary offenders faded with every second that I came to , I realized it wasn't a large flashlight shining in my face but the glow of the full moon as it hung low in the western sky, grazing the leaves of the trees that lined the sidewalk across the street from my side yard.

The electric blue glow of the sky announced the coming of the sun to the east. When I turned to look out the front facing window, I saw the silhouette of the hills that frame the coast, standing as the background to our sleepy little ocean town. The sun would be at least another thirty minutes... maybe more.

I toyed with the idea of donning my sheepskins and walking the six blocks to the water to watch the early dance of the sun and the moon from the rocks at the beach. I thought about how amazing it would be to sit with the waves breaking at my feet as I sat suspended between the two. The warmth of my bed won out, lulling me back under the comforters as I decided to watch the show from home.

Little by little, the brilliance of the moon dissipated as the glorious sun took over the sky. The moon finally relented as she dipped into the water with the promise to return this evening. Sounds of my children stirring in the next room, reluctantly rising for the day, were my cue to get moving.

The dizzying whir of the day took over.

Get up... get dressed... get the kids to school... grab a cup of coffee... hit the computer... get to the list of things that should have been done on Friday...

But the monotony of the day didn't overshadow my morning. My Monday was colored by the celestial ballet of the morning.

What a magnificent way to start the week.