I drive to my new job in the pitch-black of early morning, the inky highway dotted with pairs of red lights speeding ahead. Leaving so early allows me to avoid traffic jams and go to the gym, but it also gives me the opportunity to appreciate the sunrise.
Being a morning person, I’ve experienced a lot of sunrises. From the car, on the beach, from my bedroom window and even from a deer blind while accompanying early morning hunters. Sunrises never fail to inspire awe in me. The way the rosy light undulates with the cloud formations and bursts outward with as if hopeful that today will be better than yesterday makes me feel like anything is possible.
As I maneuver my car over to my exit, I glance to my right and that’s when, at 6:16 am, I know I will see the vivid reds peering over the dark horizon, welcoming me to the new day. I’m always intrigued by the slight differences each sunrise presents, as if the universe is asking to be noticed and appreciated for its efforts. Like a giant paint brush is mixing new variations of the same warm colors on a global palette and smattering them across the sky.
It’s no wonder that the painting that gave rise to the name of the Impressionist movement was Claude Monet’s 1872 painting “Impression, Sunrise.” It’s one of my favorites, capturing the peacefulness and optimism of a new day.
As Robin Williams’ character says in the movie Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb, “Smile, my boy. It’s sunrise.” It was one of his last roles and it is how I choose to remember him, sharing our appreciation of the sunrise.
Smile. That’s what I do in my car every morning when I look over my shoulder to yield for my exit and am rewarded with one spectacular splashy sunrise after another. Then, when I get to the gym, I often snap a photo before heading inside.