Sunrise

I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I watched the sun rise.

I remember sitting in front of Dad’s trailer. . . I think I was about fifteen. Across the road, there was a golf course, and I remember sitting in the grass, watching the sun rise over the trees. There was a light, wispy fog over the golf course, and I remember being overwhelmed by the beauty. I watched as the sun rose, and listened to the birds sing, and watched as the fog slowly began to burn off, and felt as though all was well in that moment.

I think that moment was the last moment of peace I had as a child, so to speak. I had known a lot of turmoil even at that point of my life, but I didn’t realize it then. It seems to me that things were harder after that point. Up until that moment, I didn’t realize just how truly fucked up my childhood had been. Reality crashed in after that. I realized that the way I had grown up wasn’t normal. I realized that my parents weren’t well – that they had emotional and mental demons that prevented them from being the people they could have been, and kept us from the life we should have had. I started to realize that I wanted better than this for my future self.

This year, I’ll be forty. Inconceivable.

There are times when I look back, and it seems I’ve lived several different lives since then.

There was the life between fifteen and when Matthew was born. Where I was figuring out who I was, and what I wanted. There’s the life between when I became pregnant with Matt and when his father and I separated – where I realized I was in danger of walking the same path that my parents had. There’s the life between when Matt’s father and I separated and when Chase was born – where I realized that I was strong enough to be able to break the cycle, and create the life I wanted. The life between when Chase was born, and when I finally felt a sense of security in life – I spent that time clawing and climbing, I spent that time conquering and defeating, and ultimately, time after time, I won.

And there’s now.

I stayed at a friend’s house last night. They live in a place that’s almost a country setting – just outside of town, where you can’t always hear traffic from the nearby highway. There’s a large field behind their house, and trees on the horizon. I woke before everyone else this morning, and seeing that the sun was just coming up, I walked outside to watch.

The beauty of it overwhelmed me. It made me realize that for the first time in my life, I am truly secure, and I am happy.

Life has been a series of hurdles. I kept thinking, ‘just one more. If I can just get over this next hard thing. . .’

The beauty of the sunrise made me realize that I’ve been successful in jumping these hurdles. That I have done what seemed impossible. My kids are happy and healthy. I have a career in an industry that I love. I have amazing people in my life, that care for us and are there for not only the good times, but also the really hard shit.

I missed my dad in this moment more than I have in a while. I had this overwhelming need to share my successes with him. If only he could be here now, to see how well I’ve done.

I know the theory is that our loved ones that have passed can in fact see us, watch over us.

I know my parents do. I have zero doubt that they are cheering me on from wherever it is that we go next.

But it isn’t the same as being able to pick up the phone and talk to dad. To tell him in person about my successes, and about the people and things that make me happy.

I wish he could see how amazing my boys are. How funny and smart they are. I wish he could share the excitement in watching them reach their potential.

I wish I could tell him about some of the crazy things I’ve encountered at work. That I could run problems by him and get his advice. I wish I could share new music with him, the trips we’ve been on, the amazing and wonderful things I’ve encountered in this life.

But mostly, I just wish I could share my happiness with him. It brought tears to my eyes, imagining what it would be like to share a cup of coffee with him, and relate it all.

It was such a bittersweet thing, watching the sun rise this morning. I was filled with sadness and joy, and with pride. And an overwhelming feeling of having made it to a new chapter. One where I can concentrate less on jumping hurdles, and more on being still and appreciating the moment. Life has been in constant motion, for years. . . For decades. Go, go, go. Push through the hard moments. Balance all the things. Raise the kids, help brother navigate, work the hours, get them through school, through life, get the promotion, the raise, make the improvements. . . Push forward and conquer and win. . . only to find the next hurdle, and then do it all again.

There’s still moves I can make. There’s still goals and improvements. But it doesn’t seem like things are as urgent. It seems like there’s now more time to appreciate all the little things that make this life of mine wonderful. I don’t have to make those improvements and reach those goals to feel accomplished, necessarily. Everything going forward is all stuff that I can do to make life just a little bit more enjoyable. Like finding a place where I can regularly watch the sun rise over the trees on cool spring mornings, listening to the birds wake up, without the sound of vehicles drowning out their song. Where I can sit and count stars with no street lights obstructing the view. Where I can find peace before the hecticness of the day takes over, or after the hecticness of the day has ceased.

I have no illusions that there’s not still some hurdles on the horizon. That’s just life. There will still be hard things to conquer, and I still have things that I need to process from my previous lives. Things I didn’t have time to address in the spirit of moving our lives forward. There will be plenty of hectic days, hard days when I’m at my wits end. But I have this idea that I’m past the really hard shit. I think that the mornings of waking up feeling desperate and worried might be past me.

I guess now it’s just an idea of the potential of what life can be. Its not as much of a necessity to move forward, and more so a desire.

I watched the sun rise, and listened to the birds sing. The chilly morning breeze made my fingers tingle just a little bit, and I breathed deeply and closed my eyes as a feeling of well being swept over me.

I’ve come so far. I’ve done so much. I’ve conquered and defeated.

Now I can do things just because.

And it’s absolutely wonderful to be here.

Happy Saturday, friends. Take a moment to celebrate all the things you’ve done, how far you’ve come, and all the joy that this life has to offer.