The largest window in the bedroom faces east, as does the bed; it only makes sense, then, that I watch the sun rise more often than not. It’s part of my morning routine, now, especially in the winter months and early spring when I wake up long before it happens. I lie in bed reading or writing, waiting for the show.
Some mornings, it happens subtly — the day just slowly begins as the sky lightens with no great fanfare. The blues soften and, inevitably, turn to the greys of the clouds that hang in the sky on those mornings, with none of the drama of other sunrises; the day just rolls out of bed and stumbles into being, rubbing its eyes and mumbling to itself on the way to the bathroom.
Other mornings, it’s more dramatic but no more bright, as the rain and/or wind storming keeps everything in motion and loudly declaring its presence and the day sneaks in behind this main event, afraid to upstage it. It’s just suddenly light, daytime, and you’re not sure when that actually happened. (On these days, “light” is a misnomer, because the overcast dimness just perpetually feels like twilight through the entire day, because of course it does. But still.)
And there are the best sunrises, the ones where the light hits the clouds or whatever is in the sky just right and everything becomes color, these all-so-vivid yellows and reds and oranges and pinks and purples, and it just amazes. The mornings where you look on with wonder and think to yourself, this is how art got started because how can you look at this and not get inspired? and just look on quietly.
(I try to take photos of such mornings often, holding up my iPad and hoping that this will be the morning that it works, but it never is. How could it be, though? The colors are so vivid that it would never photograph well.)
Each morning, no matter my mood or what I’m doing, how stressed I am about whatever, there’s always at least one instant where I notice the sunrise and stop to pay attention. It’s become a ritual of sorts, and one that reminds me to not get too wrapped up in my own nonsense.
I’m glad everything faces east in the bedroom.