Here, in this new life, the sun breaks over the trees behind my right shoulder, beginning my day with a beam so direct and nudging that even my home-sewn curtains can’t restrain it. I roll over languorously in my nest of crisp, cool sheets and heavy comforter and scrunched up pillows and pull the curtains back, squinting as the sunlight washes across my sleep-lined face.
In my old life, our bedroom was shaded by an enormous horse chestnut tree by whose leaves I marked the seasons. The lingering semi-darkness that hovered there lent itself to rumination and soul work and scribblings that dug back into memory and half-forgotten desires. But here, in this new life, these sunbeams push me forward instead of back, asking me to face my uncertain tomorrows, to dream of what’s to come, to brace myself for living big.
Like in my old life, I still pull our fluffy dog up into our cozy bed, still relish how her little body pushes into mine as she unabashedly makes herself comfortable. I still spend my first moments of the day catching what snatches I can recall from the night’s dreams and letting my mind wander as it will before taking up my pen to let my words spill out.
But there’s restlessness to these mornings, a little tickle that teases. Maybe it’s the pushiness of that sun. Maybe I simply haven’t quite settled into this new life yet. But I suspect something more. We’ve shaken up our life, and in the shaking, we’ve loosened a few nuts and bolts, begun a rattling that won’t be satisfied without further motion. The dreams I’m catching snatches of in these wee waking hours all seem to be filled with red rock and great desert canyons that echo with my desire, or cool river currents flowing over deep grey rocks beckoning me forth for baptism.
The only way past is through.
Eventually I crawl out of this tumble of blankets and pillows and dog paws. There is a new chill to the early morning air, the very first inklings of my favorite season’s beginning. Here in this new life, I sit on the pull-down steps to the camper to grind my coffee beans by hand. Here in this new life, I take a moment to watch as that sun grows stronger and more demanding as it rises above the tallest of the treetops. Here in this new life, I embrace the uncertainty of tomorrow, of what’s next, of what our life will look like in a month or two, or six.
Here I am, in this new life.