Sunrise Stories.

The first thing my eyes see is the dark canvas of a sky turning a glorious navy blue. The curtains are not drawn, the windows are open, and the chilly March morning breeze finds its way to the skin of my arms. I smile instantly and I hear your breaths, which reminds me to ask myself what day of the week it is. Because everyday is so different than the other, I've adopted this habit of taking the very few first seconds of my day reorienting myself for what the day should behold.

And today is our weekend, dearest. A time to rewind, connect, celebrate and stay outside of these four walls. The very notion springs in my head and I wake with such a powerful burst of energy, stretching my arms with a wide smile, my heart beating ecstatically, praying for blessings, abundance and positivity for the day ahead of us.

Since its spring, my weekend mornings are spent quite uniquely. Despite wanting to snuggle up near you, hearing you breathe and mumble absurd sounds in your sleep and laugh silently before the day breaks, I bounce quietly off the bed and put on that old grey dressing gown I used to own and top it off with a long, grey sweater. I head towards the kitchen, have my warm glass of water and half a lemon and grab the camera with my cold hands. With magical steps, I step outside.

Our little garden is quaint and glimmering in the infant day. The sky is already blazoned with lilac hues, the morning moon situated so adorably betwixt the embrace of shining planets. I take a picture with the camera, taking my time, because today is the best day to be slow and kind. I walk barefoot on the grass, my toes turning purple from the chilly dew-drops. I allow my fingers to caress the sprouting sunflower stems, their leaves slowly erupting. There are budding puddles of Gazania, dandelions and daisies at every corner. Our young apple and peach trees are blossoming graciously, their youth so inspiring and alive. I bury my face in the little lemon tree you have particularly brought from your grandfather's garden and inhale the sweet fragrance of its cream-like flowers. I look over the space and see what trees we can plant next and a picture of weeping willows captivates my mind.

But all in time, this is what you've taught me all those years.

I tear open the forget-me-not packets that my sister has sent me and kneel down to the ground. It's a little bit brighter now and the dawn prayers are echoing, so you should probably be awake by now. I smile, wondering what you'll think if I'm not there by your side. My hands are in the earth, digging up little holes for the forget-me-not seeds. I would have wanted them to be a surprise, knowing that you love them so much. I would have wanted them to blossom so quickly and greet you with them one day when you come home. 

The sun starts to rise and I can see it from the disappearing shadows of our garden. The dew-drops are glimmering and the birds are flying from one tree to another. I hear our window opening, and my heart skips a beat. I know it's you. I'm curious to know what you're going  to say. And in just a few moments, I hear your magnificent good morning, like a bird-song. I naturally start to blush and look up, waving at you with my muddy hands, grinning with a good morning that is not as authentic as yours.

 You head inside and I continue working on plucking the wilting leaves of our basil bush. I wash my hands and take pictures of life growing right beside me. Deep inside, I'm waiting for you. I'm waiting for a wonderful moment we can share together, celebrating the infancy of our day.

There you are, dearest. Smiling, you extend your arms calling me for an embrace and so I walk towards you, ready for the most beautiful good morning I could ever wish for.  My face buried in your chest, my heart crumples with vulnerability, because I never felt that enough, ever. I was always the one who would be hiding away, trying not to expose myself, shutting people out because I would never want to be a burden. But with you, suddenly I'm understood. Suddenly, I don't really have to hide away my truth. I can be whole, honest, real. I can breathe without feeling that I'm taking too much space. How did you become that universe which lets me be so freely?

We sit down on the grass, drinking water. I talk to you about how we should be planting more trees. You tell me that we should probably be building bird houses for every tree we plant. Slowly then all at once, our conversations transform our energy. I'm on my feet with excitement, and you're trying to contain me. You're gone from one spot to another, designing dreams and planning out visions. Time passes as we carry on being the creators of our dreams.

You will always be my favourite spring, dearest one.