Five years ago, after a terrible year that I didn't expect to survive, I waited up to see the sun rise on New Year's Day. But, the sunrise never came that morning. The sky simply faded from darkness to paler and paler gray to light.
There were no bright pink streaks across the sky, no orange ball rising to color the day--it was simply dark and then less dark and then less dark still and then light. I saw it as a bad omen, then, waiting after a bleak and hopeless year for a sunrise that never came.
At this point in my life, I rarely wait up for midnight, let alone the sunrise. Last night, contemplating whether I wanted to wait up for the no-longer-literal ball to drop, I realized that watching the sun rise on New Year's Day didn't require staying up all night. So, I tucked into bed at a civilized hour, my bedroom glowing with the soft light from the upstairs Christmas tree and my little dog curled against my hip, and woke up before the sun.
I pulled my boots on and went outside in my pajamas, waiting patiently in the freezing cold for the arrival of that golden light. And, once again, the world lightened gradually, more like my eyes adjusting than the turning on of a light. Again, the sunrise was devoid of a single splash of color, and I never actually saw the sun. But, that looked a little different to me this time around. It looked like real life.
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| Most new beginnings don't look like this. |
On New Year's Day 2013, I was looking for a sign, an unmistakable line between the past and the future, something brilliant and hopeful and CLEAR. But, that's not how most of life works. Change comes slowly, gradually, without bugles and splashy colors. We rarely wake up one day in a better world or achieve a single thing or witness a specific event that changes everything that comes after--most of the time, the darkness fades slowly, until you look up and realize suddenly that it's fully daylight.
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