June 20, 1999

Sunrises

Till this summer, I worked at my family's greenhouses. About this time of year, to avoid the heat we would go in early, sometimes as early as five o'clock or before. It was always dark and since work would always focus my attention, I never actually watched the sunrise. In fact, my awareness would fail to transition between night and day. One moment I would know it to be dark, the other light. Sunrises just didn't command attention.

Part of the reason was that time spent working is not time spent savored. Work leaves you wishing for moments to pass by in a flash. You do not want each grain in the hourglass to leisurely roll down the time's glassy vessel. You want them to plummet.

I have always figured the best moment to savor would be watching a sunrise with someone special. Being together for the same sight and watching every insignificant detail unfold would be in truth a time where the temporal river would be willed into a viscous trickle by me. Those moments would be a lifetime.

I eventually did this, though not as I originally or ever would have intended. That special someone and I relished the early glitterings of a new day together; each moment of time passing by not slowly or swiftly, but at the pace of seconds and minutes.