There's something promising about watching the sun rise. I think it has to do with scene change and a chance to start over. "Promising", might be the wrong term to use. Purifying; let's try that word. There's something "purifying", about watching the sun rise; a chance to live another day; the previous day behind you. Thank the universe for that. I stayed up all nite to take part in the sun's redemption ritual. For the first time since I've been here, I listened to the A.M. sounds of the neighborhood from the backyard of my house. Taking a seat on the tiniest patch of chilled, yellow-green grass, I heard soft whistles from birds. Next, came the humming from the engines of city buses warming-up. Then the Amtrak bells chimed in. These three sounds harmonized to play the musical overture that lifted up the sun. Suddenly the worry that had scattered itself throughout my body overnite compressed itself into my mind's carefully organized library of archived lessons learned.
I stood up and wiped from my bare legs, the pieces of earth that stuck to me.
I smiled to myself as I put one foot in front of the other, and I walked away.
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