Waiting For Dawn

waiting for dawn

I woke to deep rollicking thunder. The kind that makes you tremble like you’re a pigtailed five-year-old again, even though you’re tucked safe inside and quite grown up.

There was an eerily quiet pause for a few seconds, as I fully came out of my sleep. And then it thundered again. Louder this time.

I padded to the window and looked out over the lake, which resembled a great churning mass of white capped mayhem. Was it only yesterday that my son and I were gleefully splashing about in there?

A violent crack of lightning jutted down to the water, all jagged angles like an Etch-A-Sketch would make.

And I stood in the window, unable to take my eyes from the white otherworldly glow of the lightning against the iridescent waves. I suppose there was something of the familiar in all that chaos.

There was a moment when I thought the storm was going to let up. I glanced to the hills on my left and there was a sudden burst of brilliant sun. It lit up the whole sky, making the storm look rather pathetic in it’s attempt to be menacing.

And I felt my heart lift a little at that bizarre blast of light. It engulfed my soul like a desperately needed warm embrace.

But then it disappeared.

What I thought was the abrupt conclusion of the storm was more of teaser. A promise of something to come. A reminder that the sun is indeed in the sky, waiting to arrive in a blazing and beautiful dawn.

But not yet.

The light disappeared as soon as it had made its presence known to the howling wind, the inky black sky, and the unsettled water.

That brief moment of glory seemed to set off a chain reaction: the waves began to ease, the clouds parted to reveal a grey, shadowy horizon, and a hushed silence fell over the entire scene.

I turned away from the window, feeling strangely at peace.

You see, these past months have been a storm. Earmarked with fits of rage and fear and buckets of tears cried over the bathroom floor. There have been times I thought it was over, when it was really just that eerie little pause before the next blow. Just enough time to catch my breath.

But that day I saw the sun.

It was an ever-so-brief moment. But it was there.

And I knew it was a promise.

Dawn is coming.

And so I wait.

2 thoughts on “Waiting For Dawn

    • awwww . . . thanks so much michelle. it was quite a bizarre last morning in oroville that day. you couldn’t help but just stare at it. so appreciate you reading and taking the time to comment. love you 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s