Dawn is a feeling

May 28th, 2012 by Kat Kingsley-Hughes

I am awake at 4 am. Sitting outside. Watching the dawn.

The sky is beautiful. The birds are singing. I love the sound of sea gulls. It makes me so happy.

My garden is a mess. Full of weeds. And yet there’s not a thing I would change about it. I don’t even want to mow the lawn because it is doing what it does and who am I to change it? Dandelion heads are everywhere. In the night they shine like lanterns.

My flowerpots are looking so pretty. They make me so happy. I did that small thing. It is a good feeling.

I could be asleep now in my bed. But instead I’m awake. Out here. Having a beautiful, wonderful moment. Or rather an hour. Wondering at the sheer beauty and miracle of the dawn.

They call it insomnia. They say it’s a problem. I call it wonderful.

I will go back to sleep in a while, then later start my day.

I will go out into my world. Go to my interview. Go for a drive.

Sit by the sea.

Write some. Think some. And wonder at the day.

I will meet some people. I will wonder at the people as I always do. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

For a long while I turned that off. The warmth of our bed was too perfect to step out of. Even for a moment.

But I am grateful for this moment. Even with its bittersweet pain.

For without the cold, loneliness of my bed I could never have experienced this perfect moment of joy.

If we don’t step out of the warmth sometimes, just for a moment, we don’t experience the wonders of our worlds.

When I step back into my bed I will miss him.

But I will resent not the coldness of my bed, only regret the fact that I never stepped out of it to experience such joy as this, when my bed was still filled with his warmth.

Why does life have to be one thing or the other?

This entry was posted on Monday, May 28th, 2012 at 4:40 am and is filed under Flotsam. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

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