Based on something—a moment—a friend told me of recently. It moved her deeply. This is a rough draft typed on my phone as I traveled. I’ll polish further when I can. The story cover is a concept and not final. Here’s the premise: ‘Love and beauty is always there, in the ways our world reminds us.’ –Dennis
Sometimes you wake up thinking of the imperfect world of serial irritations, frustrations and for most folks, the worries and concerns they’ll soon deal with. All milling about among what constitutes the normality of life in our head. When you wake up, it’s all there… like drivers racing their engine waiting for the flag to drop. Being tired and at the ragged edge of run down, rolling out early every morning, sucks. But when you have to, you must. If I had to get up later I don’t know if I could, she thought. Best to just get it done.
This came and went in the time it took for the alarm to go off, her eyes to open, legs to swing out and feet to touch the floor. She was now up, moving out of bed and into the day; leaning into that stiff wind.
When all you want is to stay wrapped in a cozy blanket and in hopefully sweet dreams.
But for one thing. The quiet, the calm and what it can bring before “… the hurly burly’s done, when the battle is lost and won.”
She showered, dressed and made her first cup of coffee. She had company. Her dogs waited expectantly by the back door.
“Okay,” she topped her mug off from the pot. “Let’s go.” The joy in their eyes made her smile. Holding the door open for them, they stepped out. Noses in the air sniffing the predawn… the last scent of night and all the wonders that happened under moon and stars as they slept inside.
She sighed and looked up, her eyes always finding the Little Dipper. “Hi, Nicky!” she greeted that shape in the sky. That little grouping of stars, every time, made her think of him. Though he was gone from the Earth, he was still in her world. In her heart.
The wind picked up, lifting her long locks as she faced the stars above. Eyes closed, she heard the dogs exploring and sensed the borning of day. “The sun’ll be up soon,” she told him opening her eyes to note the yellow-rose tint on the horizon to the east. It climbed, and the stars began to fade. “I won’t be able to see you until tomorrow. I miss you.” She breathed in the last of the night and let it out. “I love you.”
As she said it, a shooting star blazed across the sky in front of the Little Dipper before it left her with the sunrise. He was saying, “Good morning mom, I love you, too!”
That moment, that perfect moment, filled her soul. She turned, called the dogs and started the rest of her day, realizing that getting up early… can be special, too.
“The moon went slowly down in loveliness; she departed into the depth of the horizon, and long veil-like shadows crept up the sky through which the stars appeared. Soon, however, they too began to pale before a splendor in the east, and the advent of the dawn declared itself in the newborn blue of heaven. Quieter and yet more quiet grew the sea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded on her bosom, and covered up her troubling, as in our tempestuous life the transitory wreaths of sleep brook upon a pain-wracked soul, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to the west spread those angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountaintop to mountaintop, scattering light from breast and wing. On they sped out of the darkness, perfect, glorious; over the quiet sea, over the low coastline, and the swamps beyond, and the mountains above them; over those who slept in peace and those who walk in sorrow; over the evil and the good; over the living and the dead; over the wide world and all that breathes or has breathed thereon.”
— H Rider Haggard, SHE