Morning Becomes Her

There were eight photos of the sunrise on my FB newsfeed last week. What are people doing up at sunrise? And why are they doing it at sunrise? And when is sunrise?

I'm trying to think if I've ever been up at sunrise. Don't think so. Certainly not willingly.

Oh, when the kids were babies I was up at dawn but I was shaking my fists and railing at the sunrise; popping Tylenol and licking coffee grounds off of the bottom of my mug, thinking of something to fight about with Robin because I was so tired I needed to fight someone and it would be wrong to fight my babies. Although, truth be told, the babies were much bigger assholes to me than Robin ever was. I mean, Robin didn't wake me up, screaming, every three hours because he had peed his pants.

Or maybe he did. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper. 

But I saw the sunrise once again this morning.

Phila: Bark bark bark bark bark

Me: Shhhh. Let me sleep.

Phila: BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK.

Me: Shhh. Let's just enjoy the quiet. Go back to sleep.

Phila: BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK!!!

I get out of bed, lurch to the kitchen and let her outside into the back yard. She takes a half step over the threshold and leans outside.

Me: Well? Are you just going to stand there? Hurry up.

Phila: I'm drinking rain water out of the compost bucket.  Jeez, unclench, girlfriend.

Me: What's with your attitude---

Phila: ---SQUIRREL!!!!!

She runs off. 

I close the door and go back to bed. I start to drift off. Zubin Mehta is making me a baked potato.

Phila: Bark bark bark bark bark bark!

I get up and let her in.

Phila: Why did you lock me out? It's raining!

Me: You ran off. And I was standing here in the cold--

Phila:---SQUIRREL!

And she's gone again. I go back to bed. Zubin Mehta brings me sour cream and chives.

Phila: Bark bark bark bark bark bark. Bark!

Back to the kitchen. Open the door. Phila stands at the threshold, considering her options.

Me: Get in the damn house, Phila.  I only have a half hour until--

Phila: --SQUIRREL! Gotta go!

Me: There is no goddamn squirrel, you big liar.

Phila: I know. I just get tired of listening to you complain. 

Me: You really are an asshole. Do you know how much I sacrifice---

Phila: --SQUIRREL! 

Me:  No! Stay! I said STAY!---

Phila: ---MOLE!

Me: Fuck you. I'm cold and---

Phila: ---LAND SHARK!

She runs off. I shut the door. God, I hate her. My next dog is going to be stupid with low self-esteem and will obey my every word. Same with my kids.  Fool me once.

I lean against the kitchen counter and think about better days. 

The sun is coming up behind the pine trees. The sky is turning blue and pink and yellow and magenta and magnificent. A squirrel runs atop the string of outdoor lights we put up for Aaron's wedding last Spring, calling to Phila.

She ignores it. She is sitting on the deck, staring out at the sunrise.

I open the door and walk out to the deck, shivering a little in my pajamas.

Me: It's beautiful, isn't it?

Phila: Shhhh. Let's just enjoy the silence.

And we do.