5:55

The alarm clock screams an all-too-familiar tune.

How in the world is it already time to get up?

My apathetic body is still fourteen timezones into the future,

and it’s going to take one hell of a cup of coffee to shake this malaise.

•

While my tired body will drag knuckles and feet,

my enthusiastic heart knows I need this sunrise like a map needs a compass.

So I rise from my cozy bed to answer the calling.

By the time my eyes catch up, the horizon will be stitching orange threads into the sky.

•

The morning air hits brisk against my skin.

The highway is empty, almost like the world hasn’t clocked in yet.

I stop for coffee and a bagel, then pull into the beach parking lot at exactly 5:55.

Those numbers have been following me lately, like a soft nudge from God to pay attention.

•

Sand finds its way into my shoes as I walk toward the water.

Sand sandwiched between my sock and insole—my toes are playing shuffleboard.

The tide is coming in, the water leaves the sand like a freshly made bed with no wrinkles in the sheets.

Waves steadily fold over each other with a patience I would be wise to mirror.

•

The sky starts deep navy, slowly softening into indigo.

Hints of orange appear, as if someone is turning up the stage lights ever so slightly.

Seagulls begin stirring; the tide creeps closer.

A faint glow from the highway lingers in the distance, as the hum from the tires slowly builds.

•

Then the first thread of sun peeks over the horizon—

grapefruit in color, bright, vibrant, alive.

I can stare directly at this pink sliver of hydrogen

without fear of blindness from its beauty.

•

Morning prayer feels good in my soul.

Psalms and a green highlighter are like a lantern in a dark night, finding a clearing in the trees.

I speak to God as if He is beside me,

waiting with anxious eyes and a child’s heart,

a warm cup of coffee in His mighty hands.

•

Then I talk to Jim. He’s been gone over three years now.

Yesterday was his birthday, and for reasons that still bother me, I didn’t speak to him.

It felt like I forgot to tell him happy birthday.

With a heart full of remorse, I sit in the sand, letting the first rays of sun warm my tears, and tell him how much I miss his voice.

•

Red eyes and salt-stained cheeks match the color of the horizon as the sun rises fully.

I stay seated for a moment, letting it all settle—

the sound of the waves, the cool air, the glow on the water.

Seagulls grow braver, sizing me up as a potential bringer of treats.

•

Morning has arrived, whether I was ready or not.