When I was a child, I used to wake up at 6:00, 5:00—basically any time before the sun rose. There was a different quality to the day. There were no sounds. Nothing except the rail creaking as I crept down the stairs, the crisp cracking of pages as I opened a book. Sometimes a cat purring warmly in my lap.
My favorite part was the light. Before the sun rises, the only light you have is what you yourself create. I would feel around in the dark until I found the lamp switch—and then CLICK. I’m bathed in my own personal orange orb. Nothing existed beyond that orb; nothing existed but me, the chair I sat on, and the magical fantasy world nestled in the pages of my book.
When the sun came up, my orb would slowly fade. The orange and dark turned to a soft white glow that filled every space of the house. With it came the sounds of my parents shuffling under the covers, their feet hitting the floor, their voices. Sound returned to the world.
At this point, I almost always put my book away. There was always tomorrow. My orb would always be waiting for me.
Created: Mar 06, 2014JMBorden Document Media