Waking up at 4 a.m. was not my idea. It was the cat’s idea. The kitchen is dark, and it’s darker outside. I grope for the food can and utensil, and spoon food into the dish for each cat. They make sure the amount is equal, switch back to their own dishes and begin to eat.
Outside, it is no longer indigo dark. It is Payne’s Gray dark, incrementally brighter. The star lights that line the patio roof are blinking rapidly. The sensor knows the sun is about to charge the battery; the battery is having trouble holding the charge from the day before.
In another ten minutes, I can see the palm trees outlined against a charcoal size. Then the neighbor’s roof.
The sun is rolling up toward the horizon. The sky scrimps on gray and adds a lot of rose and orange. Sun up. It’s dawn.
No matter how bad the day before was, dawn creates something fresh. Courage is easier to find at dawn. So is hope. The world, when new, is somehow easier to take.
There is another word for what happens at dawn: change. Night to day, one day to the next. The same change we generally don’t like is suddenly transformed to another chance.
Change happens every second of your life. Nothing stays the same for long. Imagine a life with no change–you couldn’t text or phone while walking down the street, you’d have to find a pay phone (and learn how to use it). No playlist in the car, you might find music on the radio.
Change brings a new light to life.
—Quinn McDonald is enjoying the change that combines all parts of her life into one website. Welcome to the new blog!