What I Learned While Waiting for the Sunrise

I hiked out of town to a hill overlooking the city a few mornings ago with a friend. We left the house at 4am to be sure we wouldn't miss it, and the walk took us about an hour. We got there with plenty of time to spare, so for a while I just sat in the dark and thought to myself. I listened as things woke up. The donkeys never really go to sleep. They bray all night long, which can be especially creepy if you happen to unknowingly walk past one in the dark. Next a few roosters initiated a city-wide crowing contest. As more time went by my eyes got accustomed to the darkness and I could pick out roof tops. The beetles started landing on and around me, and next a swarm of flies began to buzz under a tree behind me. Next were the chirping birds (Mauritania is actually well-known for bird-watching), a baby crying, a goat and then a cow in quick succession. Lastly were the doves cooing. The locals had been up since we left in order to break fast before dawn.

Sitting there in the dark, enjoying the sounds of a city waking up, I thought about how many dawns go by without my notice. I'm inspired to be more deliberate about mornings; appreciate them rather than revile them. I think in order to do this I need to live somewhere beautiful, or maybe just appreciate the beauty wherever I am. I ache to remember the cool, fresh, cobblestone mornings in Alsace when I would wake up to the sound of church bells ringing... can I ever get back to that place?

Somehow in the black, waiting for the sun to burst forth and impress us, I let go of some fears and rewrote some resolutions. I'm going to keep on walking away from parts of myself that have held me back--shed them like clinging onion skins--and step forward into the warm glow ahead of me.