Dawn Rebirth

A Nor’easter stormed in two days ago, turning off Summer as if it had reached in and flipped the switch. Windows and doors now open wide for the first time in months, letting winds blow through from back to front. The house breathes deeply of the fresh air off the salt marsh. Breezes dance down the hallway chasing their tails and causing picture frames to rattle out their Morse Code.

Nature knows the exact second when the celebration of Summer ends and hands off the baton to Fall’s runner. The ancient and timeless dance, unwavering.

We lie on our bed, Chicca against my feet, the French doors open to the deck, watching the sun begin to illuminate the clouds as it still waits bashfully in the wings.

Yes, there are many “bad” things that happen in this world. The Gazelle grazing on a sun-drenched savanna is a thing of beauty, yet its struggling, bloody death in the mouth of a Cheetah may seem less so. That’s our own conditioning. Cultural programming. Nature sees beauty in both. The Vegas shooter is an aberration, an extreme end on a Bell Curve. As a society it behooves us to address it and do what we can to prevent a reoccurrence, but neither the Cheetah nor the shooter are outside of the natural order of things. Likewise, neither killer tarnishes the luster of a new day and all of its potential for beauty and wonder.

It is said that you can never go back again, but of course that is not true. We are given the opportunity with rebirth in each new day.

Crawl, walk, run. Dawn marks the gift of life, gifted once again if we are lucky. It is a miracle to be cherished and appreciated beyond measure.

And fresh coffee. That too.

I’m going to take my cup out to the deck.