A Sunrise Hits In A Different Way
A Sunrise Hits In A Different Way. Driving down the 101, the 210, the 5, always going South. In the dark. In silence. Her bagel, my coffee. It’s not even 6:30 AM, and we have been on the road for over 45 minutes.
Headed to a tournament, a game, State Cup.
The day and all its promise lay ahead.
The excitement, the nervous pre-game energy, all go to the wayside as the tired and sleepy head slumps to the side of the seatbelt.
Stillness. Quiet. Darkness.
Then it happens. Typically, I see it first, but sometimes, her sleepy eyes spot it early. Our silence is suddenly broken up with a gasp or an “OMG” accompanied by “Look!”
We quickly reach for our phones and take a crappy photo that never, ever seems to capture its true beauty.
I want to remember these moments forever. I feel so happy, so grateful. Everything is perfect.
My Iphoto is full of dozens of sunrises like this one. It seemed like we had forever ahead of us, literally and figuratively.
I long for those mornings back. Did I make the most of those times? Did I learn new things about her relationships? About the class, she’s struggled with all year? About her fears of leaving home for college? Did I tell her how much I love her?
Not nearly enough. I mostly nudged her to eat some breakfast, along with my never-ending, “You need energy.” But mostly, I was just quiet, trying not to irritate a tired kid with boring mom conversation.
My heart aches now. I want each and every one of those sunrises back. I want to connect. I want to learn more about what’s in her heart and her mind. Not just what field we are on and who we play.
But that’s a fool’s game. It’s done now.
She’s off to college, so we will have to steal our moments and connect in other ways: over the phone, texting, or sending a few Instagram dog videos for a chuckle.
Inevitably, we will both still see sunrises for sporting events. Hers—in the Midwest, on the way to early morning training or road trips for her soccer games. Mine—back in California, on the same freeways, heading the same direction, taking her sister to tournaments.
Although we won’t be together, each and every time, I’ll still think of her.
