Beginnings

I awoke just as dawn was breaking. I was not in my home town, and thought it must have been around 5:30 in the morning. I'm not much of a morning person, but I felt that sleep had left me for that day, so I decided I would get up, make some coffee, and watch the sun rise. In the kitchen, the smell of my coffee brewing revives me with anticipation of its warm goodness that is just a few minutes away. I glance at the clock on the stove and see that it is only 3:30 in the morning. Oh well; I'm awake and the coffee is ready. I pour a cup and sit at the kitchen table which is placed before a bank of windows that face east. The eastern exposure is a vast panoramic of the Atlantic Ocean.

I sip my coffee as the sky grows gradually lighter. As the gray lightens to soft shades of yellow, orange, and blue, my eye catches a ripple in the water. I reach for my Dad's binoculars resting in the case that is mounted on the wall next to the table. Bringing them to my eyes, I see something moving near the shore. I focus in and am able to make out several seals playing together. It is hard to see them as they are the same color as the deep gray water.

The sky lightens a few more shades, and I see more life coming out to start their day. The loons cry forlornly as they begin their search for their morning meal. I watch them as they bob back and forth, occasionally diving below the surface in hopes of retrieving a slow swimmer. As the current decides their path, they bob around the point of the rocky shore and disappear from my sight.

A few more shades of lightness color the sky. I sit and watch, sipping my coffee. As the gray and blues give way to deeper yellows, I hear a foreign sound breaking the tranquility of the softly crooning loons. As I try to place this intruding noise, I see a lobster boat round the point. It is moving slowly, with steady determination. As it approaches a buoy bouncing in the morning chop, it slows in preparation of retrieving its first trap of the day. The deckhand gets it on his first try in a fluid movement that suggests years of practice. The pot is hauled aboard, giving up its plunder to the boat. The seagulls follow, hoping for errant bits of bait left floating in the boat's wake.

The seals continue to frolic, now clearly visible in the growing light. The day is dawning. I sip my coffee. I am awake: I am at peace. The sun continues to make its ascent.

I hear movement from the back of the house. It is my Father, who comes to join me in the kitchen. The sun is now up, hanging in perfection in the clear blue sky. My day begins.