What it Takes
It is both a blessing and a curse, that drive is. On mornings I’m running late, I think of how nice it would be to eliminate that half-hour commute from my routine.
But most mornings, as I round the corner that goes up the small hill by Two Strike, I am reassured by the prairie sunrise that greets me to my left.
I see the sky at its every color. Its black of early morning, spotted with white starts on crisp early mornings.
Its rich navy blue of the moments before dawn.
Its passionate pinks and oranges, blushing in the early light,
And its bubble gum and cotton candy of the moments before the sun crests the hills,
Make me smile and confirm for me that I am in the right place in my life.
It’s calming to me, that open space I encounter on my drives. Peaceful in its grandness, awesome in its infiniteness. I am fortunate to have this drive. To catch the sky in all its moments, to have that time to study its moods and the way it changes.
Part of me wishes everyone could have this drive, that I could share this beautiful morning with the world. But there’s a selfish part of me that wants it all to myself.
I have bonded with this morning sky. It has become an integral part of my support system. It consoles me. It loves me. It makes me think and reflect.
I make my coffee before we leave and we sit together, my roommate and I, in silence, as we drive to school in the early mornings.
But the sky and I, we’re talking. We’re planning for today’s successes. We’re dreaming of tomorrow’s possibilities. I’m smiling as I drive because the sky and I, we’re laughing.