The sunrise’s promise

It was a split-second decision. I was getting on the Trace: Right was work; left was somewhere more important.

I went left.

The woods were still dark, making the purple and gray sky more dramatic.  But I couldn’t look at it for very long. Driving on the Natchez Trace Parkway when it’s dark is like driving through a petting zoo at 50 mph.

I saw a flashing light ahead.  It was a cyclist — I’ve made that run many times in the morning.  Riding a bike quietly on the Trace along the Ross Barnett Reservoir is nothing short of spectacular. You hear your breath. The wind. The water lapping against the shore. The sound of a rusty 1973 Camaro  as a guy nearly runs you off the road.  I passed the cyclist with more than the required three feet to spare.  Been there pal.

My turn off was up ahead.  I pulled into the Overlook parking lot, pulled into a space and killed my car’s engine.  I grabbed my phone, walked partially down the grassy hill and stopped.  It was dead silent. I stood there, took a few deep breaths and scanned the horizon.  A rain shower toward Highway 43 made a dramatic scene off to the left.    The Reservoir’s water was dark gray. It looked like a giant slab of steel laid down between the trees. The trees, pines, whispered as the wind from the rain storm filtered south and announced that the rain would soon be there.

I thought about today.  My cold. My career. I thought about the people who don’t believe me.  My thoughts were as gray as the water in front of me.

Then it happened.   The sun began to rise.  The clouds turned pink, announcing the promise of another day. Another chance. A gift unwrapping before my very eyes.

I’ve tried to catch as many sunrises as I can since I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma in April of 2001.

I took a picture with my phone, got back into the car and headed to work. Honestly, I don’t know what my future brings. I might not have a future. But I do know that I was given a gift of one more day. One more sunrise.

Now it is up to me to make something of it.