What is better than the dawn?

I awoke after a restless night, my head pounding as if there were a million feet dancing from within. The sun was aglow having already risen to the brand new day and I had but no chance to welcome it. It was rare that I had not at least seen the break of dawn, either through a window or in person, and had not the opportunity to relish in the crisp silence of a morning pause. Today was different, it had beaten me to the wake, and crisply reminded me that in being human I am so much the lesser to the perfection of nature.

Yet through this morning’s silent scourge I had but to turn my head to see its cure. There she lie, silently in her morning frown, yet the more beautiful then when my eyes shut last. She is admittedly not a “morning person”, yet to me she is the very sight of beauty as she sleeps each morn. Such peace of the natural beauty that emanates from her can only be seen in the innocence of sleep. No worries to pinch her eyebrows, no children to harry her, no husband to aggravate her, she is the essence of beauty, the calmness of peace, the hope I feel each morning as I give thanks to see this dawn once again.

Parting from her is difficult although the bed is not my friend in the morning. Today is different, as the pain in my head beckons me back to the sheets. Yet I still rise, for the day’s pressing adventures must unfold as they are intended. I cannot help but to look once more at the woman who so much gives of herself. I pause to guess at what her day will be like, probably somewhat typical in the challenges of raise children, keeping house, and dealing with the day’s adventures and misadventures. Typical I say, knowing quite well that there is nothing typical about them except in the challenges themselves. I tend to play them off in her presence, yet I admire her honestly and truthfully for how she handles them with such grace that makes me question my own strength. I certainly do not have her fortitude.

I fight the urge to caress her; I dare not disturb this placid pond. Somehow it is moments like this that one can forget his own sufferings. Often when welcoming the morning in its stillness I ask myself “What is better than the dawn.” Well, today I have my answer, for the dawn but promises a day anew, the beauty that lies in bed next to me promises that day has hope, love, and purpose. Those gifts are few, but they are offered each day we awake and take the time to feel the love in the peaceful stillness of the morning, to see that which the light of the dawn does show, and wait to feel a loving hand grace our own with the tenderness such love can provide.

Surely without her the dawn would come each day. Surely without her the birds would sing aloud, the bunnies would bask in the warmth of the sun, and the mountain streams would sparkle such light in return. Yet to me it is clear that without her the light would not have the same purpose that it does this morning. Today, the sun but warms my skin, while she warms my Being, my soul, and my heart completely. Today, the sun but promises a new day, she fills that day with promise. To this end she is my answer to “What is better than the dawn?”