I made my way to the highest point I could, and I waited.
The anticipation builds, but your eyes stay glued to the horizon. A tiny pin-prick of light appears on the other side of the dark mountains in front of you. It spreads across the sky as if the sky is cracking open–lighting up the clouds with beautiful blues and purples.
It takes your breath–and you can’t look away for fear of missing something extraordinary. I used to think that there was nothing like a Tennessee Sunrise in the morning. Until now.
By far, the best thing about sleeping with my baby is when we wake up. This morning it was with eyelashes fluttering against my arm where her head was rested. Some mornings it is with her rooting for something good to eat like a little piggy–soft snorts and whistling letting me know how hungry she is.
Sometimes my baby wakes with a startling cry–and I wonder if she had a bad dream. Maybe a nightmare that she was all alone (because bad guys with guns don’t exist yet in her world).
Occasionally, she’ll start cooing and talking. Sometimes a bit of whining. Every once in a while, I will feel her hand slapping against me with erratic movements–as if to say, “Hey, Mama! It’s morning! Time to wake up!”
Today it was eyelashes. So I opened my eyes and stared lovingly into her great big brown eyes.
“Good morning,” I said softly, “Good morning, sweet angel.”
Then, it was the moment that I wait for. A little twinkle appeared first, then the sweetest smile spread across her face lighting up the room. And I couldn’t look away for fear of missing something extraordinary.
It used to be mountain morning sunrises. Those sunrises have got nothing on my sweet sugar’s smile.