Morning Routine - An Excerpt from my novel “Under the Umbrella of Paradise”
Photo by frank mckenna
When the evening began to quiet in our new community, Mac and I loved going to the beach, lounge in the empty chairs with a nightcap, and watch the starry sky for possible satellites. It was very relaxing and calming, preparing us for a good night’s sleep.
Because I loved that peaceful time, I decided I would make a habit of going out early each morning to feel that same calmness with the birth of a new day while I watched the sun peek above the horizon.
Being an early riser, not having a clue what time the sun would decide to pop up, that first morning I went out with time enough not to miss a single minute of its arrival. After I got dressed and eased quietly out the door, I was surprised that it was still dark. No sign of possible daylight as I walked across the street to the beach.
Instead of going back to our palapa to wait, I laid down on one of the lounge chairs and watched the sky. The stars and planets were so incredibly brilliant, it seemed almost as if they wanted to give their very best to the waning night for one last effort to be seen. My being filled with pride for their efforts — -a sentimental emotion that I wish I could have bottled to replenish my soul when needed.
I looked around at the dark palapas along the beach on the bay, wondering what time people stirred around here. I didn’t know the habits of the community yet and didn’t know how soon I would no longer be alone in the quest to welcome El Sol. It didn’t matter, though, really, as I was having a fulfilling time by myself as I watched the stars begin to fade. I felt a bit sad for their disappearing act but was happy anticipating a bolder performer soon to arrive.
One lonely planet clung to the sky, determined to show off as long as possible. I wished I knew my astronomy to know which planet it was. It wasn’t the brightest of the ones I had been seeing, but it was the most stubborn, at least until the lightness of the growing dawn began to outshine the little dot.
I sat up, knowing it wouldn’t be long before I saw the arch of the orange orb reveal itself. But I waited and waited.
Soon a few people from the community began spreading out along the beach, some with their own chairs to sit closer to the spectacle, or just wandering, wanting to be alone in their own private realm of reverence for the breaking of another dawn. It was as if all were holding their breaths, or maybe it was just me holding mine as I waited expectantly with my camera at the ready, because I soon let out a “whoosh” as I saw the first rays at the horizon burst out just before the curve of tangerine appeared.
“Wow,” I exclaimed to no one but wanted to shout to everyone. I didn’t, of course. But as the orb grew, turning that orange into brilliant yellow, I felt humbled. I watched it tickle the clouds, turning them orange and then yellow and then white. I wished Mac were here to appreciate what I was seeing and feeling. Maybe next time or maybe not.
Mac was not a morning person and would likely still be sleeping when I got back home, so I couldn’t even share the joy I felt from this moment. I would tell him about it later, after he got up and had his first cup of coffee, in hopes that he would say, “Sure, I’ll come with you in the mornings!”
I didn’t see that happening, unfortunately, but in the meantime, I’d just wander back home and sit out in our new patio living room and feel the warmth creep in, along with a bit of humidity, which I liked, and watched as the community awakened.
The birds were keeping me company, singing their morning songs, and the sea was glistening with gentle waves, which kept me enthralled until my husband arose to join me. I couldn’t help but realize, in those moments, that we may have, indeed, found our paradise. No matter what may come along later to dissuade me of that notion, this moment was magical.
Photo by Matej Drha