It was the break of day. I awoke to the sight of a small child standing, pajama-clad, beside my bed. She'd come to inform me I'd failed to wake her for preschool yet again. It was a scene that has become far too regular these pass few weeks, as the ebb and flow of what we've come to call the Junk Bug has sent my girlie to bed many a night in full expectation of being roused before dawn, in preparation of normal morning activities, only to discover, more mornings than not, that plans had been cancelled due to one or more of her family members succumbing to yet another relapse of persistent flu-related fatigue.
The difference this morning was that her unusually acute skills of observation had led her astray. Granted, I had hit the snooze button a few too many times, so we were due for a bit of a scramble. But today the light creeping under her blinds was not a sign she'd be stuck staying home - it was a portent of a still-distant spring.
The air still held a good bit of bite as we trudged out in the early morning light, but once her brother and I had bid the girlie goodbye and headed for home, the sun had cleared the roof lines, bringing sensations I've come to associate with a much later hour, lo these long winter months. Our shadows stretched across lawns glistening with snow as we strolled past at toddler-pace. We encountered the jumble of a disassembled dresser, abandoned to molder as a red-neck sculpture in an icy front yard. It looked like it had been a costly piece of furniture - maybe even recently as yesterday - and usually such a waste would be a sorry sight. But in the dazzle of sunlight gleaming off the still-fine finish, adorned with the sparkle of dissipating frost, it felt more like a piece of found art - the carpentry of man reclaimed by nature.
It was truly un matin ensoleillé. You'll have to pardon my French, but the plain-Jane substitute of 'sunny' can hardly do justice to a forenoon engulfed in such brightness. I made the bed with deliberate untidiness just to witness white sheets offsetting the burgundy duvet. The everyday petty annoyances of spilled milk and chewed off markers (yes, it's becoming a daily occurrence) melted in the warm embrace of that far-off orb. Everything looks better in sun.