A Miracle Morning

As I watch the first moist grey hues of the morning’s light creep in at the edges of the sky, I can’t help but feel fortunate.

This half-light/half-dark point marks the transition between night and day.  Two states of being that summon very different ideas, and for most people, represent completely different behaviours, emotions, activities and for some, the difference between hope and despair.

That pinkish hue above the hills promises me that the sun is on her way.  Triumphant, relentless, life-giving – and yet life-destroying.


A commuter train creeps round the edge of the valley, like a glow worm.  Its steel wheels grinding on steel track acutely describing the conflict between destiny and free-will.  The train attempting valiantly to go its own way, but the predetermined pathway keeping her tightly on track.  The resultant squealing marking an insufficient protest.  Ineffectual, the tracks unyielding.

A plane comes in to land.  Like the brightest of late stars in the sky.  Hovering, floating, towards the earth.  An improbable feat of human will over physics, that has become so commonplace we scarcely notice it anymore.  She forces her engines into reverse and lands safely on the tarmac.  The roar and strain of doing so echoes around the hills, adding one more data-point of proof to an otherwise unlikely phenomenon.

By now, the velvety sky turns blue.  Unmistakably day-like.  Shapes and forms emerge from the shadows, describing the built environment in shades of conventionality and conservatism.

The world seems like a darker place, and yet, the sun comes up.

My son wakes up.

And I marvel at how we two created somebody else, so practically perfect.  Designed to test us and help us grow, yet himself, and so independent we seem simultaneously irrelevant.

These quiet hours I snatch from the day, a miracle, a perspective shifter, a Life Saver.

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