Sunrise Stories.

On the first day of love, we are sat down on the wooden, bare floor of our little home. A pool of shadowed light rests on our feet, and we extend our toes to touch it in playfulness and joy. It’s our very first morning together and though it would have been more comfortable to sleep through the early hours, intuition carried us to that spot, in front of the balcony window, the clouds accumulated by the horizon of that little ordinary sky.

And we are waiting— waiting for a moment so spectacular, one that we have reiterated in our dreams. And we wonder in doubt, will it be the same? Will it be as unearthly and captivating? Or were our hearts carried away by a draft of summery love?

We sit still, eyes partly closed, minds wandering realms of our visions. But slowly and then all at once, it hits me— this wave of restlessness, this tide which washes me every single time, the racing heart beats, shallow breaths and unbearable tendency to stand up and just do something— anything. And while we sit down, my eyes are moving away from the pool of soon-arriving sunlight, fretting and swirling around the things that I have to do to make our day productive and meaningful. And I would love you to stay there all day, but I have to move. Every breath tells me to stand up and go.

I swallow my quivers. I take deep breaths that shake the air sliding through my throat. I close my eyes, resist those temptations, fight those voices, telling myself to calm down and remain composed. And I stay there in my head for a while, observing the clouds of thoughts storming away.

I didn’t know it would be so difficult. Usually, as the sun rises, I’m standing up eagerly, moving around, a notebook in my hand and fingers gripping a pen sharply jotting thoughts, ideas and goals down. Even when the world is transforming with light, my mind is never still, almost never focused on a single picture. But I thought, perhaps with your still grace and composure, I could try. I could work it out and sit still, waiting, observing.. absorbing it all.

I’m trying.

Your voice shatters the chaotic silence. My eyes burst open and you’re looking into them, and my heart continues raging in trilling percussions. You’re asking if there is something wrong and I sigh, smiling as well. I tell you that it’s fine, I’m just overwhelmed by this beauty, by this new beginning. Part of it is right but, not fully. I don’t quite understand it myself and I don’t know how to answer you.

You turn around, your face calm and peaceful. I’m sure that my honesty is faltering and unconvincing and I can sense it. I close my eyes again and try to regain the words flying around my head like soaring birds. Oh dearest, how I wish I knew how to phrase this. I was never so brilliant with my vulnerable voice, with the words leaving my chest. It does take some time.

Your fingers slide towards mine as they are laced around my arms, wrapped rather too tightly. I am captivated and taken back and forth to places I am not sure of. I try to speak— I try to tell you that the thought of sitting down alone is formidable. I tell you that my mind is bustling with sparks and they just want to be quickly lighted into the world before they fade, because there is not much time to waste. It’s such a responsibility, this awareness, and it weighs me down in moments so special like this.

My voice is shaking, as usual, as I try to say the things I’m not used to saying. And dearest, with the world outside, I’m sure. I’m certain, assertive and chanting. I know how to verbalise what I need to be saying to assert the value I would like to bring forward. But with you, I’m not sure why, but it’s different. It’s like a new terrain of existence— it’s being opened up with sincere honesty, and those chants never seem to suffice, because you somehow already know.

And nothing I say could ever come close to what you know.

I feel the light on my feet strengthening and I open my eyes. You’re smiling, the sun colouring your skin so enchantingly, painting a serene spark on your face. You close your eyes, taking it in and like a child, I want to share this moment with you. I’m so grateful for you, for this inexplicable joy swelling in your chest. I smile, I fight though the discomfort and feel it all sink in. I persist in this pool of light, drowning in it, sitting down in calmness and gratitude— with you.

I am sorry— and I take another deep breath, accompanied by yet another violent quiver. Your face turns to mine and tells me to rest, to take it in— there is so much time, it’s only our first day. I nod, I listen, willing to be taught by your fresh, soulful light.

I must learn to be calm. I must learn to sit in place and savour it all in. I need to learn to deserve the time that moves through me, to feel it weave into my very being. I need to find my own peace of restfulness and composure.

It’s my own journey, and you help me become a better person, just as this rising sun is unfolding your whimsical blossoms. And I then realise that this moment is just as spectacular as our dreams, that’s it’s not just some summery breeze of love— it’s the dance of seasons, weaving in the pain that comes with intimacy and vulnerability.

And it’s better than anything I could dream of— what could be better than healing in wholeness?