It’s rare that I have the pleasure of catching the sun rise. Since my injury took place more than 5 months ago I haven’t been awake, outside or able to walk my dog in the early hours of the morning. More than 1 month ago I agreed to open the yoga studio Tuesday mornings. We open at 6, which means my ass needs to be up at 4:30-ish.

It hasn’t been hard. I thought it would be, but even on the nights when sleep is fleeting and comfort is a far cry from my bed, I get up. I’ve missed the peace of the morning. I’ve missed my dog’s curiosity at me getting up. She waits to see just what is happening. I miss those mornings with just the two of us on the streets, listening to the birds, awaiting the first kiss of sun. I miss hearing my footsteps on the dirt paths through the cemetery. I actually miss the cold air through my nostrils during my walks.

This morning at the desk I looked up. I could see the pink of the sun rising on the horizon. Though the hill on North Street blocked the actually sun, I could imagine it as it shined on the water of Casco Bay. I’ve seen this sun rise over this water many times. In fact, one morning when we lived on the hill I was blessed with the company of a giant buck. He stood proud through the mist of the Eastern Promenade, right where Congress meets the edge on the park. As I took in the pink of the sky, this time, a cloud began to swoop through the sky. At first it looked like a hand, scooping. It was as if the universe was saying “we’ve got this...just go with it.”

Of course, like any modern being I went for my phone to take a picture to attempt to make this moment a semi-permanent reminder. Just like any photo of nature, it doesn’t do it an ounce of justice. Just like any things with nature this moment was just for me. In a breath the shape of the hand transformed to look like a giant bird, yet another sign…

More than 4 months ago I tore my Achilles.

More than 4 months ago was the last time I went climbing.

More than 5 months ago I felt the power of dance move through me and snap.

Today, I am thankful for this sign. I am thankful that God gave me the gift to see life in this way. Despite all the hardship that has presented itself since I snapped, I am thankful for this gift of life.