my favorite X-Files line, for certain.
I am awake before the dawn, the same dawn that presumably has just dawned upon my east coast loved ones, the sun peering through their city windows and farm windows and sideways-train-alley windows. I am sipping coffee, the sky is lightening. Soon I will wander out to have a look for myself.
I have been spending mornings and evenings here exploring the miles of gravel roads that surround the park, running then biking. Mostly I am the only one, though occasionally I find myself enshrouded in a sunset dust cloud stirred up by a passing pick-up truck– they always wave. The sky is large, and tells you everything up front. No secrets. There is a clarity to the air and, watching the sun roll behind a stand of trees, I can see how it might be bitingly cold here in the winter, silent, icy, falsely warm from behind a window.
I have collected many small things in these journeys– the tree standing alone in the cornfield, the gravel itself casting shadows, the sleek black cat turning over its shoulder to look at me, then scurrying off the road into the tall grass.
It is morning; I am feeling agreeable and peaceful. For these reasons and because I love you I will give you a little look-see into the remote dynamics of my family life.
The sun is creeping up into the sky now. Sunrises and humble blue mugs of coffee and the seldom cars that pass along the highway remind me of other pre-dawns I’ve sat through with warm and peaceful ladies– my mom, Sarah. As the latter would say– be well.